Month of Sundays
by downtonabigail
Summary: Pre-series! CHELSIE, you can be guaranteed plenty of Cobert fluff, sassy Dowager Countess, adorable if not mischievous little Mary and Edith, Carson's affection for little-girl Mary, Sybil's birth and the drama around it - and also the story behind why she's no doubt Cora's favorite and why she was always so special to Elsie, & you never know where other characters will pop in!
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue: 1924 _

Elsie Hughes paused outside the door to the nursery and listened. She'd never admit it out loud but her favorite part of the day was just before nursery tea, when nanny gathered up George and Sybbie and the children joined the rest of the Crawley's for their afternoon visit. When she had first arrived at Downton, this tradition was followed strictly at The Dowager Countess' insistence, but over the years the rules about children had softened. Especially after Lady Sybil passed away.

She could hear Sybbie, Sybil's daughter, giggling as she no doubt squirmed out of nanny's arms as she attempted to wrangle her into a dress.

"Sybbie, why must you fuss so!" Nanny mumbled, but Elise could hear a smile in her voice. Sybbie's little laugh was infectious. Like her mother's had been.

Elsie placed her hand gently on the door to the nursery and closed her eyes. She remembered when she first arrived at Downton, Sybil was not even yet a twinkle in her mother's eye. Lady Mary was almost five, Lady Edith four. Elise had come to Downton just after Christmas as Lady Grantham's lady's maid. Cora Crawley was all of twenty-four and had married into the Crawley family just a few years earlier. Having failed to yet produce an heir, she lived her days in a sense of perilous tension. Clearly Robert, Earl of Grantham after his father's death, did care deeply for her. But Cora seemed lonesome and rightfully overwhelmed. In less than five years she had come to a new country, married into an aristocratic family that was nothing like the one she had been raised in, and mothered two daughters. And she was still practically a child herself! Not that Elsie was much older- just 33, but old enough to know that Cora had every right to look terrified from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning until she finally closed them again each night.

That's what Elsie remembered most of all from her first weeks at Downton. The fear in Cora's eyes - and also, the fear in her own whenever she caught sight of herself in her Ladyship's vanity mirror. Had she made the right decision coming to Downton? Could she do her best work here, as opposed to some other estate? Choice had always been agonising for her, and this time was no different. Time had not softened her in that regard.

But, eventually, time did soften her. At least in terms of her anxiety about the future. Listening to Sybbie's giggles and nanny's protestations, Elsie sighed as she stepped away from the nursery door and continued on down the hall. Downton was home - though, she smirked silently to herself- she

hadn't always been so sure.

Chapter One: _Downton, Yorkshire, 1895_

"M'lord, the new lady's maid has arrived. She's in the parlor." Carson bellowed, pulling Robert out of his reverie. He'd gotten a late start this morning and was still in his bedchamber. Carson had only just finished readying him for the day, only to turn right round again to let him know Cora's new lady's maid had arrived.

"Thank you, Carson. Offer her some tea and her ladyship and I will join her momentarily." Robert said, rising from his bed. Cora's former lady's maid had left a few weeks ago, right after Christmas. She hadn't been with them very long at all - Cora had, unfortunately, been through a number of lady's maids since she arrived at Downton. She insisted that she didn't need one, pray, she didn't _want _one, and Violet had to explain to her that it was simply _how things were done_. Whenever Cora disagreed with "how things were done" it inevitably through Violet into a tizzy over Cora's "Americaness" which was about as derogatory of a term as a lady of the Dowager Countess' station would permit herself to voice. Robert mostly stayed mum - not really taken either woman's side in the matter - but now, heading downstairs to greet yet another new face, he exhaustedly hoped that this would be the last one for some while.

Cora met him just as he was about to descend the grand staircase.

"I'm a bit nervous, Robert." she said, touching her hair nervously, "What if this one doesn't like me either?"

Robert furrowed his brow, "What do you mean "doesn't like you?"

"All the previous lady's maids I've had have been so _cold _toward me."

"Well, Cora, they're hardly here to be your friend- what were you expecting from them other than to do their job?"

Cora shrugged, "I guess a little . . ." she wanted to say _patience, _but thought better of it, ". . .pleasantness."

Downstairs, Carson was just exiting the parlor, having started tea, and he met them in the foyer.

"I'm sorry Carson, what is this one's name again?" Robert said, making no effort to hide his exasperation. Without so much as blinking, Carson replied,

"A Ms. Elsie Hughes." he said, nodding.

Robert entered the parlor first, and upon seeing him, the woman within put down her tea cup and stood respectfully. She was a few inches shorter than Cora but just as slight. She was dressed crisply in a simple, but respectable, dark plum dress that offset her chestnut hair and wide brown eyes.

"Ms. Hughes, it's a pleasure." Robert said, "Please, have a seat."

The three of them sat down and Carson returned quickly, eyeing the new addition to Downton as he prepared two additional cups of tea for the Earl and Countess.

"We're delighted that you're here." Cora said, her smile feeling forced on her lips. Truthfully, she was delighted - but she was still worried that she would be off putting to this woman just as she had been the others.

"I'm delighted to be here, m'Lady." Elsie responded.

Her Scottish brogue was warm and already Cora was comforted by it.

"Have you the chance to view your quarters?" Cora asked, "I hope you'll find the arrangement suitable."

Hughes brightened, "Oh, yes m'lady. Downton is beautiful all 'round. My last quarters were fairly stark."

"You're from Scotland- yes?" Cora asked, sipping her tea.

"Argyll." Elsie smiled.

"Ah, near the Isles, then." Robert said, "Is your family in the maritime industry?"

"Farming, actually." she blushed, "I admit I didn't see much of a future for myself there."

"Well, I hope you'll find your future at Downton, Ms. Hughes. That being said, it will be in your best interest to make a friend of my valet, Mr. Carson." Robert said, "I think you'll find that of all the domestic staff he is by far the most knowledgeable and certainly stays abreast of my travels, and therefore Cora's. If you have questions about how things are done, he is likely to be your greatest educator. Carson has been at Downton since childhood. His father was my father's valet, you see. Carson became First Footman soon on, I believe he was one of the youngest ever at Downton.*"

"Ah. So, Mr. Carson is a fixture at Downton, then?"

Robert smiled, a hint of nostalgia glistening in his eye, "Yes, and I hope he will be at least as long as I am."

Cora stood, smoothing her skirt and folding her hands neatly in front of her.

"Hughes, I would love for you to join me in my room - we can go over the wardrobe and all that." she smiled, "Get to know one another."

Hughes stood, "It would be my pleasure, m'lady." she turned and bowed her head toward Robert, "Thank you for your time, m'lord. If you'll pardon us."

Cora gave Robert a look of approval and scoped his face for a response. He seemed pleased enough, though he was clearly preoccupied. He had much grander things to tend to on the estate and she had sensed it - having relieved him to continue on with his day, she relished the opportunity to get to better know her new lady's maid - and suss out whether or not she could expect this one to stay.

"I usually take my tea around 9:30, earlier if Robert has risen." Cora said, leading Elsie into her bedroom, "You'll find more often than not Hughes that Robert does not sleep in his dressing room."

Elsie blushed. She didn't comment, but the thought of walking in to wake her ladyship and find, too, his lordship did make her heart flutter a bit. She followed Cora into the room and looked around - it would be of the utmost importance for her to get her bearings so that she could avoid embarrassing mishaps.

"I'm still rather new to the idea of a lady's maid," Cora said, "I'm still rather new to manage things about English life."

Elisie had detected the Countess' accent - she'd known from what she'd overheard in London about the Crawley's that Lord Grantham had married an American heiress - but Cora seemed graceful and very much a lady as far as _she _was concerned.

"There's an awful lot to know about a country house, m'lady." Hughes said with a smile. After all, she'd only been a lady's maid for a short time herself. Of course she'd been working in country houses since she was a lass - first as a scullery maid and eventually working her way up the chain, taking on more and more responsibility every few years. Even though becoming a lady's maid had been a marked achievement for her, she still had her sights set higher still: someday she hoped to run an entire household. Maybe Downton would afford her that opportunity.

"You surely know more than I do," Cora laughed, "I must say your former employer gave you a deevie recommendation! They were repining, having let you leave."

"Oh, kind of you to say m'ady."

Cora studied her new maid a moment, then, seemingly satisfied, turned toward her vanity. "You've arrived in time to help me ready for luncheon." Gathering her skirts and sitting daintily down in the chair in front of her dressing table, Cora turned back to Elsie and smiled, "I'm sure you're up to date on the latest hairstyles from London. Show me?"


	2. Chapter 2

Elsie was pleasantly exhausted her first few weeks at Downton, but it didn't take her long to feel confident that she'd make the right decision. One chilly morning, as she lingered in bed contemplating the day before her, she was startled by a sharp knock at her door.

"Sorry- just a moment!" she cried sleepily. She hopped out of bed, forgetting its coziness, and grabbed her dressing gown. When she opened the door the winter chill of the room against her face was fast replaced with the burning of embarrassment - at seeing Mr. Carson before her.

"Oh! Mr. Carson!" she blushed, closing her dressing gown more tightly around her, "I'm sorry - have, have I over slept?"

Flustered and blushing himself, Mr. Carson brought a hand to his eyes and turned away, "No, Miss Hughes, sorry to have woken you-"

"Quite alright, I was already awake." she offered with a hint of a nervous smile, "I haven't dressed yet - as you may notice."

"Yes, quite so. Well, I only meant to remind you quickly that His Lordship and the Countess of Grantham will be departing this afternoon for their trip to London for the holiday. I will be going along as His Lordship's valet."

"Oh, yes, that is today isn't it?" Elsie said, "I can't believe it's February already. Time certainly has flown by me!"

"Yes, well, life does tend to speed onward here at Downton, you'll find. You will want to be sure to pack enough for yourself - as you will be coming along as Her Ladyship's lady's maid."

Elsie nodded, "Yes, that's right. I hadn't really thought much about it. Sort of a silly holiday. Saint Valentine's."

Carson studied her a moment then nodded hastily in agreement, "Oh yes, quite silly indeed. However, since you and I will - no doubt, and pardon me for being crass, you and I will not be needed the night-of, you may want to consider bringing something - well, suitable to a night out."

"A night out? Oh, that's a laugh, Mr. Carson. Too early in the morning for such chuckles. I can assure you I'll be tucked up in my room - the only lad waiting for me is Dickens."

Carson found himself wanting to conceal the smile that thought about popping upon his lips - it certainly wouldn't be proper. He cleared his throat and turned his head away from her,

"Sorry to have disrupted your morning. I certainly hope you won't be late to bring her ladyship's tray up on account of my interruption?"

Elsie's face fell. She thought she sensed a hint of displeasure in Carson's voice. She'd rather hoped to impress him - not just because he was valet, but because she thought, perhaps, they may grow to become friends.

"No, no. Won't be bustin' my stay-lace on account of it."

Carson nodded and turned, closing her door softly behind him. _How odd a man he is at times, _Elsie thought, picking up her hairbrush and running it through her hair. She'd noticed lately that her hair had begun to lighten at the roots- it now resembled the many colors of river birch bark, and though she thought she was far too young to be seeing the wiry gray hairs of dotage, she decided to chalk it up to her tireless work ethic. After all, she hardly had anyone to impress at Downton. Obviously Mr. Carson wasn't interested in her in the least. She sighed and began to fashion her hair into a respectable knot. She'd never thought she was a pretty girl. At least, no one had ever said she was, so she figured she must not be - beauty being in the eye of the beholder and all. Her mum, before she died God rest her soul, had often told her that she had soulful eyes - eyes that saw too much to be in the head of a young lass- but she didn't say they were pretty. And Elsie's father. . .

She shuddered and shook the thoughts from her head. No, not today. Not now. Carson had been right that his slight interruption to her morning would get her behind if she wasn't attentive. She turned to her wardrobe and hastily reached for her uniform - clean and pressed the night before - and managed to get herself entirely ready in time to down a half-cup of tea before her ladyship's bell rang.

**A/N:** You guys are so sweeeet! Thank you for all your lovely comments and responses. Sorry this was just a short snippet but trust me, you're going to get a much longer chapter over the weekend! xx


	3. Chapter 3

Cora was relieved that when she woke, Robert had already gotten up from bed and was, presumably, either in his dressing room or having breakfast downstairs. She rolled over toward the light and let it warm her face. She felt dreadful. For the third morning in a row now, she'd felt the unmistakable collywobbles of - oh, dare she even think it? But she knew, with Mary she hadn't at all, with Edith she'd thought those early grinding headaches and sickness to be slightly familiar, but with this one she was almost immediately certain. Another child.

She rolled over on to her back and closed her eyes. She'd rung for Hughes, so she knew soon enough she would have to sit up. Just a few moments more to linger, she thought. She liked her new lady's maid much more than any she'd had before. Hughes wasn't all that much older than her and didn't seem to be put off by her Americanness in the least. In fact, she seemed to enjoy Cora's stories of her gilded American childhood. Though, Cora did find it curious that Hughes had little to say about her own family. Perhaps she didn't think it proper, but Cora wouldn't have minded. She desperately wanted a friend. Robert - and Violet - had tried to instill in her that being "friendly" with "the domestics" just _wasn't how things were done_, but Cora thought that was quite unreasonable. Cora could tell that Robert thought very highly of his valet. He had known Carson since they were boys, running around the estate, not yet old enough to know what social constructs were destined to ruin their boyhood friendship. Was it really so unreasonable to think that in Hughes, Cora may find herself more than just someone to help her lace her corset?

She groaned. Soon enough _that _wouldn't be necessary. Just as the thought left her mind, she heard a small tap on the door and Hughes stepped in. She crossed the room, tray in hand, and smiled brightly at Cora.

"Good morning, m'lady." Elsie hushed, waiting patiently next to the bed for Cora to sit up. She found it a little troubling - for the third morning now her ladyship had not already been up and reading or brushing out her hair by the time she brought her tray up. If Elsie wasn't mistaken, it seemed that the Countess' face also looked a bit sallow.

"Thank you, Hughes." Cora said, propping herself up on her elbows, "If you don't mind, would you set it on the dresser? I am feeling rather poorly this morning."

Elsie frowned, "I thought perhaps you were, m'lady. The last few morns' you've seemed out of sorts."

Finally sitting up, though with her eyes closed and her face in a tight grimace, Cora sighed. "Yes, well. . ."

"I'll go ring for a doctor, if you'd like?"

Her azure eyes opening, Cora's face softened, "I will need for you to ring for him today, but you needn't hurry. I know why I'm ill - or at least, I'm nearly certain."

Elsie paused, waiting for Cora to elaborate. When she didn't, she urged her on with her eyes, and then "M'lady, if you don't mind, I don't mean to pry but is it something I ought to know? Something serious?"

Cora almost had to laugh at her lady's maid's grave expression. She reached out to take Elsie's hand and squeezed it, "No, Hughes. You're darling to be so concerned. I am poorly now and suspect I will be for a few more weeks at least, but it is a most natural occurrence." she flicked her eyes up at Elsie coyly, "I've been through it twice before."

It took her a moment for her ladyship's words to fully register, but then, when Elsie realized what Cora was saying to her, she couldn't help but feel a swell of excitement rise in her chest.

"Oh, m'lady - a bairn?"

Cora shushed her, "I haven't told Robert, haven't told anyone except for you. And I don't even know for certain - though it is a very peculiar feeling that I have only experience twice before - with my girls."

Her heart grew heavy. Elsie didn't know just what her ladyship was feeling, and for a moment she thought that she felt a bit envious of her. She patted Cora's hand reassuringly and let her own feelings subside. It wasn't her job to feel anything about it, so, she wouldn't.

"I think I shall be able to wear my corset for at least a few more weeks, so, I suppose I ought to get up." Cora said wearily, though, she did have a small smile on her face. And Elsie thought, too, that there was a bit of a glow to her eyes that hadn't been there the week before.

Setting the tray down on the vanity, Elsie wiped her hands on her skirt and walked back to the bed. Cora had, with exasperation, swung her legs over the side of the bed and was preparing to stand up when a look of great fatigue crossed her brow. She looked up helplessly at Elsie, like a sick child.

"Hughes, would you help me to the bath? I'm afraid I'm going to be ill."

Rushing to her side, she gave her hands to Cora who took them, dizzily standing.

"Lean on me, m'lady, I'll steady you." Elsie said, walking her slowly toward the adjacent bathroom. No sooner had they crossed the threshold than Cora lunged out of Elsie's grasp and headed for the sink basin.

"Oh, m'lady!" Elsie soothed, following her and running her hand along Cora's back. She brought both her hands up to each side of Cora's head and stroked her hair, which had begun to come undone, away from her face.

"Hughes, I'm so sorry!" Cora choked, "I'm terribly embarrassed."

"M'lady," Elsie laughed, "You've nothing to fret over. Nothing so natural in the world as this - the curse of Eve, so it is."

Cora retched again and from behind them, Elsie heard footsteps approaching. Before she could turn she heard the Earl's brusque voice from the doorway.

"What's going on?" he said, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Elsie didn't turn to him right away, but a small smile did cross her lips. Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham, was many things - and in private, she had learned quickly, he was as squeamish a man as she had ever met.

"Cora, are you unwell?" he said, approaching them. Cora straightened and sighed heavily, "I'll be fine, Robert. You needn't worry yourself."

Robert looked helplessly at Hughes, and the lady's maid gave him a sympathetic smile. Before she could responed, Cora heaved once more into the basin. Robert recoiled in horror.

"She'll be right as rain, m'lord-" Elsie said, quickly trying to keep Cora's ever-falling hair out of the sink.

"Don't sell me the dog, Hughes." Robert stuttered, "Should I ring for Dr. Clarkson? We were supposed to depart for London today."

Cora wiped her mouth on her hand, looking at Elsie desperately. "I don't want him to see me in this way, Hughes!" she whispered hoarsely. Elsie turned back to Robert and sighed heavily,

"Why don't you go and fetch Dr. Clarkson, m'lord."

Robert nodded, a bit disoriented still, and backed slowly out the room. He hadn't even the wits about him to shut the door properly, and as Cora gave another pained heave, Elsie tried to decide if she had wits about _her _enough to scurry across the room to shut it.

When Carson stumbled upon a rather sullen looking Robert in the library, he halted in mid-step as he entered the dimly lit oasis of polished wood, burgundy and literature.

"Pardon me, m'lord. I thought you had gone upstairs." he said, bowing his head. Robert lifted his face from his hands.

"Quite alright, Carson. I'm glad you're here." he stood up, wringing his hands as if he hadn't any idea what to do with them. "Cora's taken ill."

Carson's brow furrowed, "I'm sorry to hear it. Should I ring for Dr. Clarkson?"

"I have and he's on his way." Robert said. Realizing he hadn't anywhere to go, he slunk back down on the settee and heaved a rather audibly sigh. "I feel that I may have hurt her feelings just now. She was. . .sick. Hughes was with her, thank heavens." he looked up at Carson for reassurance, "I'm rather mad as hops about the nuances of female life, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure her ladyship understands, m'lord. I daresay that's why women have lady's maids."

Robert nodded. Perhaps Carson was right. Hughes had seemed perfectly comfortable to take care of Cora - yet, still, he felt a tug of regret that he had not been able to help. Though, part of him wondered if he'd only have mucked it up by staying.

"Well, if Dr. Clarkson is on his way, if you don't need anything else at the moment I'll take my leave." Carson said.

"Yes, keep on then." Robert said, watching Carson leave the room. He was suddenly overwhelmed by loneliness and a sharp pang of uselessness. No sooner had he felt thus that he heard the girls coming down the stairs with Nanny. He rose quickly and accosted them from the doorway to the library, desperate for a distraction.

"Nanny! Come, do bring the girls into the library. I've a moment for a visit."

Nanny- a stout, Parisian woman who had come on after Mary was born- narrowed her eyes at Robert. "We were headed out for our morning walk, m'lord." she said, her delicate accent trilling around the W's. "But I suppose-" she looked down at the girls who seemed a bit thrown off by their pause.

"Come, my darlings, come sit by the fire with your Papa for a moment."

Mary, who had just turned five, gave her father a peculiar glance. Mary was the kind of child who thrived on the order and routine of nursery life. Having an interruption to her schedule -even for something as delightful as visiting with her Papa, made her visibly fret. Edith, on the other hand, all blonde curls and bounce at almost four, let go of Nanny's skirts and raced into the library ahead of her Papa, animatedly chatting away. Nanny gave Mary a nudge to follow her younger sister, and she did so, but stepped carefully over the threshold to the library.

Robert sat on the settee closest to the fire, which, at this still early morning hour had yet to be roaring, and lifted Edith into his lap. She and Mary were like oil and water - two daughters, two girls, couldn't be more at odds. While Mary was dark and elegant like Cora, Edith was in many ways more like Robert's sister, Lady Rosamond. With her soft blonde curls and wide-awake eyes, Edith was always bursting for attentions. Mary was more quiet, reserved - that is, until Edith did something to annoy her, in which case she was capable of almost an adult's level of indignance.

"Poppet, come join us then." Robert encouraged, patting the settee. Mary sauntered over, trying to appear unimpressed, and hopped up alongside him and the ever-chattering Edith. Robert had to stifle a laugh when he saw Mary pointedly fold her hands in her lap and cross her little feet at the ankles. She was already turning into quite the young lady.

"I see Mary's taken well to her etiquette lessons, Nanny." Robert said. Nanny blushed, her eyes sparkling from the praise.

"Oh, yes m'lord. After all, it's in her blood. She is the perfect _petite mademoiselle_."

"Papa?" Edith said, her voice approaching shrillness, "Do you?"

He hadn't heard her - poor thing, sometimes it was so easy to just allow her to carry on without actually hearing what it was she had to say.

"I'm sorry pet, what did you ask me?"

Edith's face fell at the realization she wasn't being listened to.

"Nothing." she said, sliding off Robert's lap disappointedly. Before he could protest, he saw Dr. Clarkson appear in the doorway.

"You'll have to excuse me Nanny. Carry on." he said rushing past her.

"Goodbye, Papa!" Edith cried, running toward the doorway. Mary gingerly stepped down off the settee and folded her arms across her chest.

"May we go for our walk _now,_ madam?"

**A/N** You all are _so _kind! As someone did point out, however, in the previous chapter it is somewhat unlikely that Carson as _valet _would have done the tea-pouring - oops! Stuck in my canon ways with that one, I think! Forgive me. Since this story is pre-series I'm making a lot of assumptions - a major one (needed to make the mini-Valentine's Day plot work) is that I'd place Sybil's birth in late October, and I think most agree it was really more like Nov/Dec. - I promise it'll all be worth it in terms of weaving a great story, not just to explore early cobert but CHELSIE as well, which is a ship I didn't know I'd enjoy writing so much - but something to be said about sweet, sweet somewhat unrequited love! xx 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N IN LIGHT OF THE AMAZING CHELSIE IN TONIGHT'S EPISODE I GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHAPTER. MOSTLY BECAUSE NOW I JUST WANT TO GET ON TO THE JUCIER STUFF IN SUBSEQUENT CHAPTERS! xx**

Dr. Richard Clarkson trudged up to the front gate of Downton Abbey. He was trying to shield his face from the cold air with his scarf, but in his haste to leave and respond to his lordship's call, he hadn't dressed warm enough and he feared his whiskers might be freezing.

He had always tried not to marvel _too _greatly at the Downton estate. He had been making much more frequent visits since the Crawley daughters were born, but he always was a bit astounded by the beautiful home. While he was certainly a successful man, he knew that he would never live to see a day when he lead a life like that of Downton's inhabitants. But he loved his work. He felt a grand sense of purpose in taking care of the people in Yorkshire.

He could have knocked on the front door, but figured he would go round to the servant's entrance, as to make less of a fuss. The Earl had sounded as though he wanted to keep the situation mum - as not to alarm anyone, Dr. Clarkson supposed. By going in the side-door, he could circumvent most of the upstairs - he'd just have to be mindful to miss certain downstairs staff members who were particularly apt to spread gossip. Luckily for him, the servants were all off well into their day-to-day activities around the estate, so he managed to make his way through their quarters unannounced. As soon as he stepped into the upstairs foyer, he saw the Earl of Grantham coming toward him.

"Dr. Clarkson, thank you for arriving so promptly." Robert said, his hand outstretched. Dr. Clarkson shook it and nodded appreciatively.

"I came as quickly as I could, m'lord. Is her ladyship upstairs?"

Robert nodded and led Dr. Clarkson up the grand staircase, two stairs at a time. "She's been quite ill all morning. Hughes has been with her all morning."

"Hughes?" Dr. Clarkson said, following Robert down the long hallway to Cora's bedroom.

"Oh- yes," Robert said, pausing as he reached the door, "That would be Cora's new lady's maid."

Dr. Clarkson nodded and Robert opened the door. As he stepped into the room, the first thing Dr. Clarkson saw was a dark-haired woman leaning over the bed of Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham. He had to assume this was one, _Hughes, _the lady's maid. He certainly didn't recognize her. Hearing their footsteps, she turned around, a relieved smile gracing her face. She was young- younger than the previous lady's maids Dr. Clarkson had known at Downton. She was quite pretty, slight like her ladyship and dressed neatly. She held in her hands a damp cloth, which she had presumably been patting along her ladyship's brow, and when she noticed his doctor's bag, she moved away from the bed to make room for him to proceed.

"You must be the new lady's maid." Dr. Clarkson said, approaching the bed. He put his hand out and Hughes took it, though with obvious reservations, as her hands were as damp and clammy as her ladyship.

"Yes, you must be Dr. Clarkson." she said, "I'm Elsie Hughes."

Dr. Clarkson nodded and approached Cora's bedside, "It seems you've been taken most wonderful care of her ladyship, Ms. Hughes." he said. He turned his attention to Cora now, taking her in fully for the first time since he had entered her room. "And how are you, m'lady? Under the weather, are we?"

Cora smiled weakly, her face ghostly white. Her lips were cracked and pale, and her normally bright and sparkling blue eyes were dark. She flicked her eyes to Robert, then back to Dr. Clarkson.

"Could you send Robert away?" she whispered, her voice crackling, "I would prefer to speak to you in private."

Nodding - somewhat knowingly - Dr. Clarkson turned back to Robert, who was standing awkwardly near the door. "M'lord, if you would - I'm going to need to do a full physical examination. Ms. Hughes will fetch you when we are through."

Robert looked helplessly at Cora, "If you'll be alright, I'll go, darling." he said quietly. She nodded and Hughes approached him, putting her hand tentatively on his forearm.

"I'll stay with her the entire time, m'lord. And I'll fetch you just as soon as Dr. Clarkson's through with his work."

She looked at him kindly, and for the first time since she arrived, Robert really felt a certain affection and appreciation for Elsie Hughes. He nodded and quietly stepped out of the room. Hughes shut the door behind him, then turned back to Dr. Clarkson.

"How can I be of help, doctor?" she said, returning to Cora's bedside. Dr. Clarkson looked at her, then back at Cora.

"Well, m'lady - do you think you know the source of your ills?"

Elsie though that she detected a slight blush of color reaching Cora's cheeks and her eyes brightening just a bit.

"I think perhaps I do," Cora said "I've felt this way twice before."

Dr. Clarkson nodded, "Indeed! And have you been having your monthlies?"

Cora thought a moment, "I suppose the last one was a bit unusual. It wasn't exactly late, but it was not what I would normally anticipate." she turned to Elsie, "I daresay I was pleased by it at first- I am always so embarrassed for my lady's maids during that time. How dreadful it must be for them."

"You needn't worry m'lady." she said, patting Cora's hand affectionately.

"Well, I will do a brief examination to tell you for sure." Dr. Clarkson said. He turned to Elsie, "If you would, please, help me to arrange the blankets - I'll just need to reach my hand under them here -" he gestured to the side of the bed, "- and then if you'll assist her ladyship to sit up ever so slightly - yes, up there at the head of the bed. Perfect. Thank you."

Elsie felt her eyes widen at the sight of Dr. Clarkson's hands moving about underneath the blankets of Cora's bed. When she looked at Cora's face, though, there was a quiet resignation about it - clearly she had been through such an examination before and while it was no doubt uncomfortable, it wasn't quite as shocking. When Dr. Clarkson removed his hands at last, she heard Cora sigh. He stood and walked over next to where Elsie stood, her hand placed somewhat delicately on Cora's hair, and instructed her to help Cora lie back down, completely flat.

"Mrs. Hughes, have any of your previous employers had children during your tenure?" he asked as he lifted Cora's dressing gown and placed his hands upon her bare stomach. Cora tensed and he apologized, "Terribly sorry if my hands are chilled, m'lady."

"That's alright, just startled me a bit." Cora said. She turned her face up to Elsie, "Have you?" she asked.

She was referring to Dr. Clarkson's question, of course. Elsie smiled, "No, m'lady, but I would be so excited if this could be my first."

Tucking the covers around Cora once more, Dr. Clarkson took a step back and smiled, "Lady Grantham, I must say, your instincts are impressive. You are pregnant - I would estimate around six weeks gestation, putting your date of confinement in late October."

"Oh, m'lady, congratulations!" Elsie said, unable to contain her excitement. When she looked down at Cora, she saw that not only was she smiling just as wide, but her eyes had grown damp with tears.

"Hughes, would you go fetch Robert?" she said.

"At once, m'lady." Elsie replied. She nodded to Dr. Clarkson and raced out the door. She knew it wasn't proper to run, so she merely quickened her step. Bouncing down over the stairs she heard the booming voice of Carson just as she reached the foot.

"Ms. Hughes, unless there is a fire I would advise you to slow your step. We do not race at Downton unless it is on horseback."

Elsie turned, feeling a loose piece of hair fly askew and into her eyes. She quickly moved to fix it, seeing Carson round the corner and head up the stairs himself.

"I'm sorry Mr. Carson. Forgive me. I have to fetch his lordship before Dr. Clarkson leaves."

Carson furrowed his brow, "Is everything alright?"

Elsie pursed her lips in a somewhat feeble attempt to hide her smile, "Oh, yes, Mr. Carson, nothing to worry about."

With an air of mystery about her, she continued on down the hall towards the library - away from Carson, who stood at the foot of the grand staircase unable to get the sight of her delicately brushing a wisp of hair away from her glowing face out of his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **You guys are always so AMAZING, I love writing for you! So, I was going to wait to post this tomorrow but since we're all still REELING from last night's episode, and I think us Cobert shippers feel like we need a little love for them, I split the next chapter in two parts - so here's part I, and the next part is rated M for SEXYTIMES. Remember. . . it is Valentine's Day. ;)

Dr. Clarkson had left, assuring her that everything should progress nicely. It was, after all, her third child and she was most prepared for what to expect in the coming months. He knew that Robert would be coming to see her any moment, and he figured that she would want to share the news in private. Now, as she anxiously awaited his arrival, she hoisted herself up in bed so that she could at least be sitting up and look a bit less disheveled when he arrived.

The first time they'd had this conversation, it was with Dr. Clarkson present. Of course, with Mary, she hadn't the slightest idea that she was pregnant. They had, of course, been hoping that she soon would become so, but when it finally happened it had taken her a much longer time to figure it out - she was already into her second trimester. Upon hearing Dr. Clarkson's words, Robert had of course been ecstatic. Cora had been as well - but also marred by fear of the unknown, insecurity in her ability to be a mother and a real sense of homesicknesses that her own mother was so far away on such a joyous occasion in her life. Though, after that, Robert became far more protective of her. He spent more time with her and became much more affectionate toward her. Thinking she might only have been imagining it, she asked Rosamund what she thought and Robert's sister had almost immediately agreed - she'd told Cora that Robert had always loved her, of course, and been smitten with her right away. But the stress of needing her dowry to save Downton and the pressure to produce an heir had left him paralyzed. Now that they were well on their way to doing what his family expected of them, he found it far more easy to relax into their marriage- and love her the way he wanted desperately to.

Of course, when Mary arrived Cora was terrified of what he - and his family - would think. But he was so taken with Mary, so taken with fatherhood, that he couldn't have been persuaded to be disappointed. After that, his love for her was solidified, and she knew that nothing would ever come between them again.

The next year, when she became pregnant a second time, he did express a bit of concern at her announcement- lamenting that they had to wait a whole season to know if they would have an heir. The entire pregnancy she had felt dreadful - far more tired and sick than she had been the first time, and the added stress of trying to imagine what humiliation she would face if the baby was another girl landed her in bed two months before her confinement should have begun. When Edith arrived, Robert had to make a bit more of an effort to conceal his disappointed. His mother, Violet, didn't talk to her for a month. And her own mother, who had come over from America, had sat at the foot of her bed and clucked her tongue, saying that while she didn't care what the child's gender was, so long as it was healthy, she knew what Cora would be facing. For the first few weeks, Edith refused to nurse, and she required a wet nurse, which only further humiliated her.

Now, Mary and Edith were both the apples of their father's eye. Robert was especially close to Mary, who seemed to have more natural Crawley sensibilities than Edith. The girls were so close in age that they already were at odds with one another's personalities on a daily basis. For every lady's maid Cora swatted away, her daughters had also managed to off-put several nannies. If it hadn't been so embarrassing, Cora would have found it rather comical that two little girls could cause so much of a fuss. Mary may have been her father's little lady, but Edith had found a friend in Rosamund. Cora always wondered if, perhaps, Edith knew from birth that she was not the expectation of her parents, and therefore, she found it best to keep her parent's somewhat at arm's length. Cora loved both her girls, neither more so than the other, but she always felt that they were more their father's daughters than her little girls.

There was a dull rap at the door. Her heart fluttered in her chest, as she knew it was Robert. He pushed the door open and came in. As it shut carefully behind him with a soft thud, he padded across the room to her bed.

"Cora, my darling, how are you feeling? Dr. Clarkson said you should only require a few days' bed rest, but you'll be fine."

He sat down on the bed, taking her hand between his. His hands were so very much larger than hers. He could envelop them completely. She felt so safe and sound when he was near. Though his hands were mighty, they were tender.

"Robert," she began, wondering if her bright eyes were betraying her, "I've got something to tell you."

He looked at her expectantly and leaned in closer, so that there faces were nearly touching. He raised his hand, bringing it gently to one side of her face.

"Darling?"

Biting her lower lip, savoring the moment of leaving him tantalized, she watched his eyes search her face.

"We're going to have another child."

He blinked, then sputtered out the breath he had been holding in.

"Oh, Cora, my love, that is most wonderful news!" he said, leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips.

"So, you're pleased?" she asked, breaking the kiss for only a moment. Robert pulled back to look at her, laughing slightly.

"Of course I'm pleased, my darling. And you, are you happy?"

Sighing and shifting forward in her bed ever so slightly so that she could kiss his lips, Cora placed her hands upon his chest. "Yes," she said against his teeth, "Robert, I am so very happy."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This one has some sexytimes. . .nothing terribly explicit (yet mwuhahaha) but I've never actually written smut before so I hope it turned out okay, ha ha ha. I don't want it to turn into Danielle Steel Downton style, :P

The trip to the London house for St. Valentine's Day went on as planned, though Cora was still not feeling tip-top. Her eyes heavy with fatigue, Elsie put the finishing touches on her hair and gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

"M'lady, are you sure you're feeling up to dinner out?" she cautioned, "You look like you'd much rather be kippin' than out on the town."

Cora smiled wearily, "I just wouldn't want to disappoint Robert is all."

"Oh, m'lady, I don't think you could - he's sky-high with glee over the news about the bairn."

"Well, I'm sure we'll call it an early night." Cora said, as she stood she turned suddenly back to Elsie, "Oh, that reminds me. On trips to the London, Robert and I usually. . ." she pursed her lips thoughtfully, her fingers waving in front of them a moment, "We usually don't require any help undressing for bed. So, you will be relieved of your duties after dinner and may do as you please. Hopefully you will be able to take in a bit of London this evening."

Elsie blushed, tidying up Cora's luggage so she wouldn't have to look her in the eye, "Very kind of you m'lady. I will probably curl up with a good book and call it a night m'self."

"Surely you'd at least like to spend some time getting better acquainted with Mr. Carson. . ." Cora asked, eyes sparkling girlishly. Elsie snapped her face up to look at her ladyship, who suddenly seemed much younger than her title might suggest. Elsie so quickly forgot that Cora was only in her early twenties, still a girl really!

"Well, Mr. Carson must have better things to do than spend time with me." Elsie sighed, unfolding one of Cora's chemises, "He must be looking forward to seeing some of his friends in the city this evening. . ."

Cora shrugged, "Honestly, Hughes - I couldn't tell you. Mr. Carson has never struck me as being much of a dandy."

"P'raps not, m'lady, but I'm about as dull as dishwater."

"Oh, Hughes! Don't say such things!" Cora said, placing her hands on Elsie's forearms. She smiled kindly at her maid, "You're very bright, kind and pretty as a picture - I happen to think Carson's keen on you!."

"Why do you say, m'lady?" Elsie stuttered. She wondered if, perhaps, Carson had confided something untold to his Lordship.

Cora smirked, "If we're to be friends, Hughes, I think you'll find that I know a lot more about what goes on at Downton - both upstairs and down - than I'd let on." she gave Elsie a conspiratory glance, "You promise not to tell?"

Elsie nodded, "Oh, wouldn't dream o' saying a word, m'lady."

"Well, Carson asked Robert - back when we were planning this trip - if he had a cicerone* for the new underground railway - it seems that he wanted to explore greater London for a "most beautiful spot."

Elsie's eyes widened, "Oh, but you don't think . . ."

Cora nodded, "Has he asked you to join him for dinner this evening?"

"Well, he did this morning, sort-of."

"What did you say?"

Elsie opened her mouth to answer, but they were both startled by a knock at the door. Robert appeared - ready to escort Cora downstairs. He narrowed his eyes briefly at the two women, who looked to be in the midst of some kind of scheme.

"Are you ready my darling?" he said. Cora smiled at him, then gave a small wink to Elsie as she headed for the door.

"Hughes, Cora may have already mentioned it but you are now relieved of your duties for the rest of the evening and Cora will call for you mid-morning tomorrow. You'll hear the bell."

Elsie nodded, "Thank you, m'lord."

Cora gave her another encouraging look and then the two of them disappeared down the hallway. Elsie could hear Cora's throaty laugh as they went down the stairs.

After she'd finished unpacking Cora's things - and turning down the sheets on her bed for later on - she made her way back downstairs to finish tidying up. The London house, though it was smaller, was no less grand than Downton in interior furnishings. She paused on the main floor, looking around at the beautiful artwork that seemed to hang on every wall.

"Startlingly pretty, isn't it?"

Elsie turned at the sound of Carson's unmistakable voice. "Oh yes, quite beautiful."

"Grantham House is the newer of the Crawley residences - it was built in 1849."

"Oh, so not long ago at all."

Carson walked closer to her and together they both made their way down towards the servant's hall. "I think it will see the most use once the young ladies have their first season."

"I've never seen the London season from the inside before." Elsie said, "My last job housekeeping I certainly saw enough of the young ladies as they were leaving - and coming home after - but I've always wondered . . ."

"I remember His Lordship's sister's presentation to court rather vividly," Carson said, "Lady Rosamund - you may recall, that is Robert's younger sister- had quite a marvelous debut."

"Oh, I'm sure." Elsie said longingly.

They had reached the entrance to the servant's hall and at once neither one of them knew just what it was they had come downstairs to do. Carson cleared his throat and shifted a bit awkwardly onto his heels.

"Are you still seeing Mr. Dickens this evening?" he said.

"Come again?" Elsie said, flustered? Carson laughed - a deep baritone that she wasn't sure she'd ever heard before.

"This morning, if I recall, you said your only plans for this evening involved a one, Mr. Charles Dickens?"

"Oh," Elsie blushed, "Well he's always a great comfort to me on long winter's nights."

Carson studied her face a moment, then, puffing out his chest a bit, he continued on in his pursuit.

"I hope I'm not being too presumptuous, but, do you suppose he would relinquish you for one evening - just long enough to keep a valet company for a while?"

Elsie felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest. "Mr. Carson, I don't know-"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hughes. I'm sure you are very tired from the trip in. After all, this is only your first trip to the London House with us and there is much to grasp -"

"Wait," Elsie said gently, and before she could stop herself she felt her hand reach out and touch Carson's arm. He looked down and they both froze. Though the house was droughty from the winter's evening, a palpable spark could be felt between them, a certain heat traveling from where her hand grasped his dress jacket all the way up both their arms. "You're right, it's my first trip to Grantham House." she breathed, "So, perhaps we could start with a proper tour?" She smiled, "I don't even know where to go to make a cuppa."

_A/N: A cicerone is a map of sorts. _

"Cora, I know you still aren't feeling your best, so don't worry if you would only care to have light fare this evening." Robert said, looking across the candlelit table at his wife. They were seated at one of his favorite eateries in London, The Criterion in Piccadilly Circus*. Not only was the atmosphere of this particular spot conducive or a romantic evening, but it had one of the most astounding ballrooms in London - and Cora loved to dance.

"Don't fret over me, Robert." Cora said, her gloved hands running along the edge of her glass, "I might be in the family way but I'm not yet nesh."

Robert smiled adoringly at her and reached across the length of the table to take her hand. "You look lovely this evening."

Cora couldn't help but smirk, "Oh, Robert darling, I appreciate your generosity, but there's no need to flatter me. After all, I'm already you're wife."

"And this evening we shall celebrate that." he said, raising his glass. "I do hope you'll feel up to at least one dance?"

Cora took him in, his little boy-face could at times break her heart. But the sincerity and tenderness of his concern made her feel, all over again, that he loved her more than she perhaps allowed herself to believe.

"I expect it will make me feel better." she whispered, giving his had a reassuring squeeze.

At Grantham House, the tea kettle whistled loudly and Hughes rose from the table to fetch it. She and Carson were on their third pot of tea. The rest of the staff had long gone up to bed - and it was just the two of them, in amber lantern light, sipping their tea and softly talking.

"Well, I think I know just about every in and out of Grantham House now!" Elsie said, pouring another pot of tea, "I didn't know in addition to being his Lordship's valet you were also the historian in residence!"

"Downton's the only home I've ever known- I wouldn't go so far as to suggest I know more about it than his Lordship, but I may propose I know at least as much." he said, waggling his eyebrows at Elsie. She giggled and took her seat across from him at the table. Stirring her tea, she blew lightly on it to make it a sippable temperature, and then sighed contentedly, pressing the warm cup against her cheek.

"Mr. Carson, now that you've told me the history of Downton Abbey, perhaps you'll tell me a little about yourself?"

"There's not much to tell, I'm afraid." Carson said, sipping his tea, "I'm as dull as dishwater."

From their perch in the kitchen below stairs, neither Carson nor Elsie heard the commotion upstairs when Robert and Cora returned from dinner. The house was just dark enough, and the two of them overtired enough, that finding their way up the stairs to their room had posed quite a challenging task. Ever-afraid that Cora could trip, Robert refused to let go of her hand and Cora's meeger protestations as she grasped at her skirts to lift them only had them both reduced to laughter.

"Unhand me, Robert!" she laughed, gripping the bannister, "We'll both topple!"

From the stair above, Robert turned back to her and in one fell swoop, lifted her into his arms. She swung her arms around his neck and couldn't help but swoon - Robert always had been a man who knew how to woo. Though, he did tend toward having two left feet in the ballroom. But she'd forgive him that.

He carried her upstairs to their bedroom door. When they approached it, she reached one hand out to turn the knob, and as they stumbled into the bedroom - the lamps having already been lit, thankfully, they giggled as their eyes adjusted to the light. Robert set her down and closed the door behind them - snapping the lock shut with a heavy click. Turning back to her, both of their faces flushed, he took a step toward her, reaching for her face with his hands. He let his hands snake around the back of her neck, the feeling making her shiver hungrily. He pressed his lips to hers, holding back just enough to entice her to push in, which she did. They fumbled to remove their outer layers - which always took twice as long and much more effort in Cora's case - _blasted corsets! _Robert would bemoan, the laces slipping through his fingers in haste.

When he stood only in his undergarments, she in her chemise, he took her hand and lead her over to the bed. He sat down first, and when she did, he turned to face her fully - his hand reaching up to tuck a fallen piece of raven hair behind her ear.

"My dove," he whispered, gazing longingly into her eyes. He could already sense a smoldering fire within her, and as he pressed against her, lowering her gently down onto the bed, she let her body fall against the sheets with a dancer's grace. Letting her arms lay above her head, her dark curls now splayed against the white of the pillows, she smiled contentedly as he placed his hands against her bare thighs, moving ever so slowly up the length of them until they curled around her at the hips.

"I'm yours." Cora hushed, her voice barely above a whisper. He lowered himself, straddling her at the waist, and bent down to kiss her neck, paying mind to her elegant collarbone. When she shuddered in response, he moved his body against hers, a pleasant friction building where their skin so tauntingly touched. His mouth found hers again, and as he deepened the kiss he brought his hands up to clasp hers, pinning her against the bed. Her body rose up in response, her breasts pressing against his bare chest from beneath her chemise. Unable to withstand the torture of the fabric any longer, he broke the kiss and pulled himself up, running his hands along the underside of the garment, pulling it off her and discarding it onto the floor. She exhaled deeply, her breasts heaving.

"You're so spectacularly beautiful, Cora," he said, burying his face against her neck once more. He brought one hand up to take her breast, the weight of it against his palm all at once familiar and thrilling. Her breathing quickened and her hands grasped for his hair, her fingers pushing against the roots. She let her eyes flutter closed as he traced delicate patterns against the skin of her neck, her chest, down to her bare stomach. He pressed his lips against it, just below her navel, and she let her eyes open at his pause. He let his head rest against her for a moment, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. One managed to slip down her face and she instinctively reached up to swipe it away. Robert looked up and when he saw her tear-streaked face, he abandoned his lust and rose up to wipe her tears. "Darling, what is it?"

Though she was crying, she managed to squeak out a small laugh, "Oh, Robert, I'm not sad, quite the contrary." She sniffled, throwing her arms around him, "I just love you so - so, madly."

Robert tightened the embrace, feeling her relax into him. He reached up to wipe the few lingering tears from the corners of her eyes, and then kissed her ever-so gently upon the forehead.

A/N* It's possible that they wouldn't have ever gone to a place like this, but it was one of the most glamorous places in London at the time and I'd like to think that if they needed a night away they would go somewhere at least a little bit fun - even if it wasn't THE fanciest place in all of England! 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: You guys are the best to write for, omg. I just love your enthusiasm for these people - it inspires me to keep writing even when I feel like I'm losing momentum. This story is going in crazy directions - I'm already pretty far ahead, so I'm rolling out the chapters a bit at a time so hopefully you won't have too long of a stretch between installments. And, just to my lovely Chelsie folks - don't worry, they'll get their smutty bits later on. . . ;) **

_Late summer, 1895_

"I've never played Whist with only two people, Mr. Carson."

Summer was drawing to a close in Yorkshire, but everyone was taking advantage of the beautiful weather they had been having as of late. It was still staying light well into the evening - and while that usually meant doing more work later into the day, on particularly dewy evenings, Elsie would find Carson in the courtyard, having a glass of sherry and playing solitaire.

Her Ladyship was nearing her time of confinement, so it was becoming more and more frequent for Lord Grantham to forgo his valet in the evening and, instead, tuck in early with her. So, when Elsie had finished readying Her Ladyship for bed, still having a few hours before she herself would want to get to sleep, and Mr. Carson having been relieved early of his duties, the two of them often found themselves in the courtyard together in the gloaming.

This particular evening, after a week or so of sitting together - Elsie hemming skirts and Carson lost in his game of solitaire, he proposed that they both partake in a friendly card game.

"I assure you, Mrs. Hughes, it can be done. It requires a _slight_ bending of the rules-"

Elsie chuckled, "You, bendin' the rules Mr. Carson? Do you think me nickey?"

"I'm no stick in the mud, Mrs. Hughes." he said, dealing their hands, "Now, the rules are as such - aces are high, suits are equal."

Upstairs in her bedroom, Robert watched as Cora brushed out her hair. She was sitting at her vanity, her long hair draped over her shoulder. He hardly ever saw her with her hair unkempt - it was fashionable for ladies to keep it in an upswept, neat coif. Though he'd never think to comment on it, he did enjoy watching her. Though he'd had a sister in his youth, Cora had been the first woman with whom he had experienced the wiles of womanhood from behind closed doors. Admittedly, the lot of it made him rather squeamish. Particularly in relation to her delicate condition.

"Admiring my follow-me-lads?" Cora teased, lacing her curls around her finger. Robert rose from the bed and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

"Has your hair gotten even longer?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Cora smirked, "I do think perhaps it grows faster when I'm carrying a child. I can't imagine why, but it does seem to be so quickly becoming out of hand. I'll have to ask Hughes to help me lop off a bit at the ends."

Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, he saw a slight grimace tug at her face.

"What is it, Cora?" he asked, stroking her hair lightly.

Turning away from the mirror to face him, she placed her hand on his atop the chair.

"Oh, don't mind it Robert. Just the _small discomforts_." She rose, making her way over to the bed. As she pulled the covers back to climb in, she paused, one hand resting upon her abdomen.

At his side of the bed now, Robert paused in his own pulling back of the covers to study her a moment with mounting concern.

"Darling-" he started, reaching across the bed for her hand. Cora looked up at him, and her face was no longer held a pained expression, but a slightly mischievous one.

"Climb into bed, Robert." she said, sliding into it herself, "I want to show you something."

He scooted over next to her under the covers and she reached for his hand. When he saw her draw it close to her stomach, he recoiled.

"Oh, Cora, darling - we've been through this before. You know I can never feel whatever it is you want me to feel!" he tried to laugh, but she could tell it was a reaction tinged with disappointment. She knew this of course- partially because of his squeamishness but also because her previous pregnancies had been somehow . . .different. This baby seemed even more active, a personality to precede the baby itself. Cora didn't want to get her hopes up, but she hoped that the change in activity - the strength of the baby inside her- meant that it was a boy.

"This time is different, Robert. You'll see. Here, just give me your hand."

Reluctantly, he relinquished his hand to her. She placed it gently to one side of her belly and placed her hands over it. Then, she waited.

"Cora, I-" Robert started, but she shushed him. The next moment, she felt a determined kick - and she immediately turned her head to look at his face. He'd felt it too, and his face was a mix of boyish curiosity, marvel and perhaps even a bit of pride.

He didn't say anything at first - and she was about to open her mouth to speak when she felt the baby turn - little feet now displacing her ribs, she huffed out an impatient sigh.

"My God," Robert breathed, locking eyes with her, "What an extraordinary sensation!" Placing his other hand on the other side of her stomach, he leaned in closer, as though he expected that the child might pop out at any moment, "How odd it must be for you, though."

Cora laughed, "Not odd really - a little surprising at times." She watched as he looked on with fascination, his rapt attention to her something she couldn't help but pleased by. "They call it 'quickening' - you can't feel it right away, the baby has to reach a certain size - but then it's about all you feel."

"Is that why you're so restless at night?" Robert said, looking up at her.

Frowning, Cora let her hand lazily tousle Robert's hair, "Have I been keeping you up, darling?"

"Not so bad as that," Robert said. Another strong kick, this time startling them both. He couldn't help but laugh at their surprise - and they exchanged a knowing glance; Robert too hoped that it was different this time because she was going to bear him a son - an heir - though neither would be quite so sure enough as to mention it.

Outside, the courtyard grew dim. Carson's baritone laughter rang up to the darkening sky above, and as Elsie resigned herself to being a sore loser at cards, Carson reached to begin to put the deck away. For a brief moment, their hands touched. Elsie looked up at him from beneath her long lashes. They were both hot and tired from the weather, and a bit giddy from the sherry. He cleared his throat and brought his hands close to his side of the table, deliberately placing each card back into the satchel. Elsie reached for her glass - just a sip of sherry left.

"Miss Hughes, I don't believe I've ever asked you- how did you find yourself at Downton?" Carson said, not looking up for the deck of cards. Elsie fingered her glass thoughtfully, watching Carson stroke the cards - his long fingers brushing up against them with a tenderness that made her hold her breath.

"I've been in service quite a long time, Mr. Carson. Started as a scullery maid when I was just a lass." She wasn't sure how much more she wanted to say, but the sherry and the pink light of evening made her brave. "After my mum passed, I had to find work to take care of my younger sister."

"And your father?" Carson asked, "What was his trade?"

Elsie sighed, "Our farm." - If she wanted to be honest, she could have said his trade was the bottle. He spent far more time at the pub than he did their home and when he _was_ there, she'd much rather he was elsewhere. He was a mean drunk - and after Elsie's mother died, a sad one, too.

"And after you were a scullery maid?" Carson asked, reaching for his sherry glass. "How did you proceed?"

"Oh, Mr. Carson. You've heard enough o' my chin music for one evening. Surely you want to call it a night."

"It's a beautiful evening- might be the last one of the summer. And dare I say, Miss Hughes, I've quite enjoyed your company these last few evenings."

Elsie felt heat flush her face. She happened to catch his gaze a moment and held steady. Carson had what her sister would call "soulful eyes" - a poet's gaze, perhaps. Elsie though Carson probably saw - and knew- a lot more about life and love than he'd ever dare let on.

"I've enjoyed your company as well, Mr. Carson." she said, "I was worried I wouldn't fit in at Downton. It's the most posh place I've ever worked."

"I've never worked anywhere else." Carson said, not to compete but just to inform his perspective. Elsie wondered how it was Carson could be such a well-rounded and worldly man when he'd hardly stepped foot of the estate in his lifetime.

"I think. . .Miss Hughes," Carson started, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, the summer breeze kissing his face, "You are a most wonderful addition to Downton Abbey. I hope that you'll stay on with us for. . .a long time."

His eyes still closed, Elsie felt that she was free to smile as wide as she pleased. The breeze sent stray wisps of hair webbing around her face, and she reached up to smooth them back. Sighing contentedly, she lifted the sherry glass to her lips and let the last few drops dribble into her mouth. Her tongue traced along her lower lip and she happened to see out of the corner of her eye that Carson's eyes had opened - and he was staring unabashedly at her. When he sensed she may look over, he quickly turned his face away and closed his eyes again. Elsie set her sherry glass down on the table, leaned back and folded her hands contentedly in her lap. The final sunlight of the day had sunk beneath the horizon, and the first stars had begun to punctuate the sky above them, small points of light illuminating what buzzed between the two of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here's a bit of a longer one for you, loves! **

The end of the summer was a lusty one - it almost seemed unusual for the English countryside to stay so warm well into September. Though the estate was abuzz with preparations for the newest Crawley, who was expected the next month, Cora had all she could do just to get out of bed in the heat which plagued her with fatigue and made her irritable. At the recommendation of Nanny, she only saw the girls in the afternoon for nursery tea, and not in the morning, which had long become part of the girls' routine. While she did feel a bit guilty- and could almost feel Mary's coolness toward her when they did spend time together with Edith in the afternoon- she could hardly see any other way around it. She couldn't do anything to risk the health of the child who could, at long last, become Robert's heir to the title.

On one such particular morning, when the temperature had already climbed to an uncomfortable and stifling degree in her bedroom before she'd even so much as thrown back the covers, Cora startled awake - a regular occurrence the last week. This child she was soon to bear was simply unlike the other babies she'd had- she could tell that straight away just from the way it- or he, she pleaded silently- tumbled about inside her. It was as though this child knew already the high stakes of their birth - and though Cora couldn't have really been persuaded to care more about the baby's gender than their health, every time the child wiggled away within her, she was reassured that at least, the baby would be born strong. She knew all too well that this was not always the case - even for women of her station. Wealth could not afford anyone the promise of an unperilous birth. She stretched, arching her back against the mattress - it had been sore but at least she had long been freed of her corset, which was a luxury she didn't take lightly. Sitting up, her eyes adjusting to being awake, she noticed that the door to Robert's dressing room was open just a crack. She cocked her head, throwing back the duvet and stepping out of bed. Padding across the room, she rapped lightly on the door and then gently pushed the door open.

"Robert?" she said, her face appearing in the doorway. Robert was seated in his dressing room, reading the newspaper, and having his tea.

"Good morning, my darling." he said, lowering his newspaper, "Did you sleep well?"

Cora narrowed her gaze at him, "Robert, why aren't you having your breakfast downstairs?"

Folding the newspaper and setting it on the side table next to his chair, Robert uncrossed his legs and moved to stand, "I thought perhaps I would start taking my tea up here in the morning- just to be sure that you're well upon waking before I head onward to take on the day." He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek, one hand resting on her stomach, "I wouldn't want to miss anything."

Cora gave him an impish grin, "That's very sweet of you, Robert. But it's just as likely that the time will come and you'll be across the estate or in Ripon - as it will that it could happen when you're here, having your tea."

His hand at her lower back, Robert guided her out of his dressing room and back into her bedroom, "Yes, but surely if the time is imminent you would have a bit of warning?"

Cora sighed, "A little warning, yes, though I wouldn't wager much - each time it happens a bit more quickly." she laughed, "_God willing!_"

She returned to her bed, lowering herself down carefully. The light streaming in from the window was nice, but it quickly became more than she could stand against her skin. She hadn't even been awake ten minutes and already she was sweating.

"But you're feeling well this morning, yes?" Robert said, sitting down next to her on the bed, "I was thinking perhaps I would take the girl's to London to visit Rosamund. It's likely the last time we'll have the chance to before the baby comes. I think we would stay the night-"

"I take it I'm not invited to come along?" Cora pouted.

"You need your rest. Besides that, I think it would be nice for me to spend some time alone with the girls - before their lives change entirely."

Cora nodded. She had to agree. She only wished she felt well enough to accompany them.

"You'll have to give my best to Rosamund," Cora said, a small yawn escaping her, "And Marmaduke, of course.

Robert sighed, "Oh yes. _Mr._ Painswick."

Cora's eyes widened, "Do you still not approve of your sister's husband, Robert? They've been married nearly six months!"

"I'm coming round to him, I suppose. Don't tell Mama I mentioned it - she's only just begun to accept the idea of _us_."

"But she has?" Cora asked softly, "She has finally gotten to like me a bit?"

"Oh, my Cora." Robert said, taking her hand, "Mama loves you in her way. She does. But it will likely always be difficult."

Cora though a moment, then, "Even if this one's a boy?"

Catching her gaze and letting it linger a moment, Robert swallowed, "Do you suppose - suppose that it might be?" he asked.

"I couldn't be certain, of course - but I daresay there is something just so entirely different this time. _I feel different_." A small smile creeped onto her lips, "I would of course love to think that it's because it's a boy - all the rumble-tumble."

He smiled at her and she held his hand against the side of her belly.

"I want you to know, Cora, that even if it is not a boy, I would never be angry with you for that. I know that Mama may have words about it, but all that matters to me is that the child is healthy." he sighed, "We know that some others in our situation are not so fortunate. To have three children, even three daughters, would be perfectly acceptable to me so long as they are happy, healthy and cared for."

Cora sighed, the anxiety that had been tensing her shoulders finally letting go. She let her head fall back in reprieve and a small, relieved giggle escaped her. "I'm so happy to hear you say that."

"Did you ever think I felt differently?" he asked, a bit in disbelief, "What kind of a father would I be - more concerned about the entail than the well-being of my children?"

"Oh, my darling, I never thought you so exacting. But I know that it weighs heavily upon you - the matter of the title."

"Cora, it will weigh heavily upon me until I take my dying breath." he said, kissing her sweetly on the lips, "Now, on to most important matters: what shall I bring back for you from London?" He moved to nuzzle at her neck, but they both jumped at the sound of a knock at the door.

Robert furrowed his brow at Cora who shrugged, but nodded.

"Come in," Robert called, rising to see who might be at the door. It opened, rather slowly at first, and after a few moments a small form appeared in the doorway. The dark-haired, cunning, Mary Crawley.

"Mary?" Robert asked, going to her, "Have you managed to slip away from nanny?"

Without betraying her cool exterior, Mary turned her back to her father just long enough to shut the door. Cora had to laugh. She knew that Mary was Robert's favorite- even if he didn't quite know it himself. Perhaps because she was the first born- as he was, or perhaps too because Mary was already so much like him in temperament; she was unabashedly English and unusually poised for a child. Cora wouldn't have admitted it out loud, but she often feared that Mary may grow up to be a rather intimidating young woman- one that perhaps would not think very highly of her mother who, after all, was not titled by blood.

"Papa, are we going to Aunt Rosamund's?" Mary asked.

"Of course, if you'd like to." Robert said, kneeling down in front of her. Mary smiled, rocking back on her heels.

"Good. I was afraid the baby was coming today."

From bed, Cora gave a small huff, "A few weeks off yet, poppet." Mary looked past her father, somewhat warily, at Cora. Edith wasn't quite old enough to understand the implications of a new baby- to her it seemed to be more the prospect of a toy, a dolly for her to play with. Mary was just at the right age to feel her place threatened. Robert lifted her up into his arms and brought her over to the bed to join Cora.

"Now, your Mama needs her rest so just a kiss hello, then back to the nursery with you." he said, giving Cora a small smile. She leaned back against the headboard and rested her hands atop her belly. Mary crawled up next to her and, though at first she seemed hesitant to relax, needed only a few moments of having her hair soothed to sigh contentedly and snuggle up against her mother. Robert sat at Cora's feet, his hand reaching down to massage one foot which was brushing up against his thigh.

"Are you excited to visit your Aunt Rosamund?" Cora said, running her fingers through Mary's still baby-soft hair.

"Yes," Mary said, "I hope we can go to Hamley's."

Hamley's, the most lush toy store in London, was any child's favorite spot. But for Mary it was perhaps most beloved because of her deep sense of wonder - and, of course, her already well-defined appreciation for all the finer things in life.

The baby shifted positions and Cora reacted by adjusting her upper body so that she moved just out of reach of Mary for a moment- the sudden absence of her mother's warm body against her made the girl sit up, disoriented.

"Did I hurt you, mummy?" she said, scooting away from Cora.

"No, no - you didn't, my darling. I'm sorry. Come here," she opened her arms to Mary, who hesitated before shifting back over to retake her previous cozy position in her mother's arms. As she settled against Cora's bosom, she tentatively placed one finger against her mother's stomach - somewhat curious if not also a bit frightened.

"Is this baby going to be a boy?" Mary asked, giving Cora's tummy a brave poke. When the baby responded- seeming to almost poke back - Mary squealed.

Robert gave Cora's foot an affectionate squeeze, "We won't know until the baby is born, Mary. But it could be."

"I hope so," Mary sighed, resting her head where the baby had moment's ago kicked her hands, "I'm tired of sisters."

Elsie was finishing up the last of her tea when she heard Carson's familiar footsteps approaching her from the kitchen. She turned around, teacup in hand, and smiled up at him.

"Mr. Carson, what are you doing down here? Is everything alright with his Lordship?"

Carson sat down at the table and helped himself to a cup of tea and a bit of scone, tearing off a bite as he spoke,

"Well, it won't be long now - the baby and all - so his Lordship will be taking his tea in his dressing room while her Ladyship sleeps in, and then. . .well, he'll ring for me once he's made sure that she's in good shape to face the day."

Elsie nodded knowingly, "Ah, you mean, that he hasn't missed out on the big event."

"Precisely," he said, "This scone is quite good."

Elsie nodded, "Yes, I believe the new assistant cook's recipe."

"Oh, yes - what's her name, Rushmore?"

"_Patmore_," Elsie laughed, "She's very nice. I think she'll do well here."

Carson finished the last of his scone, downed his tea and stood - just as the bell from Robert's dressing room rang.

"Impeccable timing, Mr. Carson." Elsie smiled, standing as well - no sooner had she that her Ladyship's bell rang as well. Carson raised his eyebrows,

"Likewise, Miss Hughes. Perhaps we can walk upstairs together - looks as though we're headed in the same direction this morning."

Elsie blushed. She had grown a bit sweet on Mr. Carson. Of course, how could she not? He was really the only friend she had at Downton. She certainly wasn't looking for anything more than a friend- or, perhaps she was, but she still wasn't quite over the first, and only, man she'd ever loved.

_Joe Burns. _

She shook her head to shake the memory of him from her mind. _No, quite enough of that_. There was work to be done.

The two of them headed upstairs. It was quite balmy for so early in the morning, and by the time they'd reached the grand staircase, Carson had taken out his handkerchief and was dabbing his forehead.

"It's awfully warm in here, is it not?" he said, turning to Elsie, "I fear this summer may never leave us."

"Careful what you wish for, Mr. Carson" Elsie teased, "Come December you'll be lusting after the warmth."

At her choice of words, Carson's face pinked up. Almost immediately Elsie felt her own face's blush deepen to a beet red. _Oh, my wicked tongue! _She thought as they climbed the staircase in silence. When they had reached the top - Carson headed for Robert's dressing room and Elsie to Cora's. There was a ever-so brief moment where they just stood, a foot or so apart from one another, the heavy heavy between them not with humidity, but feelings left unsaid. Carson took a cautious step towards her.

"Miss Hughes, I hope you don't think me presumptuous - and certainly I would only extend the invitation in the nature of friendship - but would you care to join me this evening for something -for something a bit more than just a game of cards?"

"Oh, Mr. Carson, I-" Elsie said, wringing her hands nervously.

The door to Cora's bedroom opened and revealed her Ladyship, her hand holding Mary's. She looked surprised to see Carson and Hughes lingering in the hallway and gave them a slight cock of her head.

"Mary, my darling, head on back to nanny like a good girl." Cora said, not taking her eyes off Hughes. Her lady's maid lowered her gaze bashfully. "Hughes, when you're ready-" Cora said, a half-smile on her face. Disappearing back into her room, she left the door ajar.

Flustered, Elsie smoothed her skirt and didn't look up at Carson. He gave her a moment to regather her composure and then, when he still heard no response from her, he balled his hands into nervous fists and turned on his heels away from her.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Hughes." he said, lowering his head, "Forget I mentioned it."

Before Hughes could protest, he had disappeared at the speed of light behind the door to his Lordship's dressing room. She let out a painful sigh and pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks. _No, no time for such thoughts today. _She told herself.

She rapped slightly on Cora's door, just to let her know she was indeed on her way inside. Cora was alright sitting at her vanity, still in her dressing gown of course. Her fingers were dancing tiny circles on her belly, somewhat absentmindedly. Hughes cleared her throat softly to announce herself.

"How are you feeling today, m'lady?" she said, walking up behind her. Snapping out of her reverie, Cora looked at her in the mirror.

"Fine, Hughes. Thank you."

There was a moment of quiet between the two women until, either because her curiosity had gotten the best of her or she just couldn't to feel Elsie's nervous hands running through her hair, Cora spoke.

"Do you get on well with Mr. Carson?" she asked.

"I think so, m'lady." Hughes said, "He's an excellent valet, always does more than his fair share of work, never makes a fuss." she smiled to herself, "He's a good example to us all."

Cora nodded, "Well, that's good to hear. I know Robert thinks especially highly of him. You know our butler, Anderson?"

Hughes nodded, "I do, m'lady."

"Well, don't tell the rest of the staff but - he'll be leaving, retiring that is, after the holidays. And Robert was thinking he would like to ask Carson to take his place."

"Oh, m'lady, I think that's a wonderful idea. Mr. Carson would make a most wonderful butler for Downton."

"I agree, Hughes. But - I wanted to find out from you. . .do you know if Carson has . . . a special person in his life? Someone he might want to put ahead of a most promising career in service?"

Hughes thought a moment - in fact, she couldn't say really. Carson was a man married to his work and she admired him for it. She could only hope to rise in service at Downton with the same esteem that he had.

"I don't think so, m'lady. I think Downton's his mistress."

"And you?" Cora said, "Anyone dear to you?"

Hesitating, Elsie let her hands fall against Cora's soft hair. She _had _loved Joe. Really loved him. Figured maybe she'd spend the rest of her days with him. But when she'd had the opportunity to come to Downton - and he hadn't understood why she'd wanted to go- she knew that she couldn't marry him. They still wrote letters of course - and some nights she thought about him, missed him even. . .but then again, on those nights even, she could count on Carson and his cards and his sherry. . .

"No, m'lady." she finally said, returning to the braid she was working on.

Cora didn't seem quite satisfied with her answer, but before she could push her further, she nearly jumped out of her seat. A small giggle escaped her.

"Hughes, I'm terribly sorry. I must tell you this child is certainly keen on making its presence known."

Elsie felt a small tug in her chest. She wasn't too far gone- _she could still have this for herself_. She watched Cora's eyes close, her hands resting against the bump that she so tenderly caressed, and there was something so heartbreaking about it. Something that Elsie couldn't quite put a finger on, but something she knew she would only ever know if she were to feel it for herself. Sensing her longing, Cora's eye's opened and she turned toward Hughes.

"Do you want to feel?" she said, her eyes soft. Hughes felt some embarrassment creep up the neckline of her dress.

"Oh, m'lady, I wouldn't want to impose -"

Cora scoffed, "Hardly, Hughes. I only apologize that I didn't offer before."

She stepped to the other side of the chair and gave her hand to Cora, who took it from her and placed it on her stomach.

"Now, you might not feel it at first but-" then, a swift kick - Hughes instinctively pulled her hand back, clasping it over her mouth.

"Was that-" she looked down at Cora in excitement, "Oh, m'lady, I-"

"Here," Cora said, taking both of Hughes' hands and pulling her down until she was kneeling before her. "Put one hand here, the other here and -"

Watching her intently, Cora saw something peculiar pass over her lady's maid's face as she knelt before her, feeling the child within. She hadn't known Elsie Hughes all that long, but long enough to know that she was tender, kind and likely capable of a great deal of love. Why she hadn't anyone in her life to share it with - and no children- was something Cora was sure she couldn't understand. She thought, for a moment, she saw tears glistening at the edge of her maid's eyes -but almost as soon as she'd seen them, the dry air of the room had made them disappear. Hughes looked up at her, the child having calmed to her touch - or, perhaps, fallen asleep.

Taking her hands back and standing, Hughes pressed them to her chest.

"Thank you, m'lady." she said, "That was quite an experience to behold."

"Had you never felt that before, Hughes?"

Hughes stiffened at a memory- perhaps, yes, before her mother had her sister, Glenna. Perhaps then, as a girl she had but - so often she wasn't allowed to be near her. So often her mother was somewhere that Elsie couldn't get to her, couldn't be close - _no, not these thoughts, not now. _

"No m'lady. Can't say I've ever had the occasion to."

Cora - seeing some pain resonating deep in Elsie's eyes - smiled kindly at her and turned back to the mirror, "Plenty of firsts for you in the next few months, then." She picked up her hairbrush, handing it to Elsie. "I'm glad you'll be here. With me. I mean that, Hughes."

Taking the brush from Cora, Elsie let it linger in her hands a moment before she put it to work. "Thank you, m'lady. I'm glad, too."

"I think that will be all for now, Carson." Robert said, straightening his waistcoat, "Will you be ready to depart for London at noon?"

Carson nodded, "Yes, m'lord. I've already packed my overnight bag."

"I admit, I'm a bit nervous to leave Cora even for a night- with my luck the moment I leave something would happen."

"I think you're safe for a few more weeks at least, m'lord." Carson said.

"True - and I do feel better knowing she is in Miss Hughes' capable hands in my absence." Robert cleared his throat, "Tell me, Carson, what do you think of Miss Hughes?"

Carson felt his body tense. What did he think of her - _of Elsie Hughes_? Only that she was beautiful, kind, intelligent. . .

"Carson?" Robert said, studying his valet a moment - he seemed pleasantly lost in a memory.

"Yes, well," Carson puffed, "Exceptional, really. She's very capable and it seems that her Ladyship is pleased. I would say that the feeling is mutual."

Robert smiled, "I'm glad to hear it. I don't know what we'd have done if she hadn't worked out - especially with the baby coming. Do you know what her long-terms plans are? Do you expect she'll stay on with us?"

"I hope so, m'lord." Carson said, pursing his lips. Robert looked at him curiously, folding his arms knowingly across his chest and taking a step toward his valet.

"Have you made a friend of her, Carson?" he asked.

"Well, a friend, I don't know m'lord. Maybe I have." Carson said, looking down at his feet. He'd certainly like to think Elsie thought of him as more than just. . .well, a nobody.

"Glad to hear it, old boy." Robert said, patting Carson's shoulder. "The company of a pretty woman is to be treasured."

"Very well, m'lord. If you don't mind- speaking of occasions to be treasured - have you and her Ladyship considered any names for the newest Crawley?"

Robert chuckled - he'd known Carson since they were boys and normally the topic of the children wouldn't be one that mattered much to the domestic staff. But Carson had always been more than that. He looked out for the girls as much as any member of the family.

"Well, if it's a boy, of course- I suppose we'll go with Robert. And then my father's name, of course- so, Robert Patrick Crawley, the second." he beamed with pride, imaging his son and heir to the title.

"And for a girl?" Carson nudged. Robert thought a moment and then conceded that he hadn't thought much about it.

"Does her Ladyship have any favorites?"

Robert shrugged, "I daresay, we haven't seriously discussed it. I guess we're both hoping if we just don't invite the possibility of another daughter, somehow it will assure us a son."

Carson nodded, though both men knew that such wishful thinking could only lead to disappointment.

"Well, if that's all m'lord, I shall take my leave." Carson said.

"Very well, then." Robert said, but as Carson turned and headed for the door, he called out to stop him.

"Carson," he said, rather sheepishly, "Do . . . _you_ have any suggestions for girl's names? I know you are a well-read man, one who enjoys literature. I see your name on the library ledger quite regularly."

Carson smiled, "I do frequent the library, m'lord. But I wouldn't want to impose _my preferences_ on your family lineage."

"Oh, don't be silly old friend." Robert said gently, "You know you're very much a part of this family as far as I'm concerned."

Beaming, Carson felt his back straighten - pleased with Robert's response.

"Well, m'lord, I can't say that I have a favorite - however, in the book I'm reading at present, by Mr. Benjamin Disraeli*, is titled _Sybil._ It's a rather controversial political novel, providing a great deal of commentary on the disparities in society, particularly the working class. Young Sybil Gerard, the protagonist, is a very bright, sweet and honorable young woman. I admit I had never heard the name before. . ."

"Sybil. . ." Robert repeated, letting the name roll around his tongue. "I rather like that, Carson. I shall tell Cora about it before we depart for London. Thank you." He crossed the room, patting Carson in the shoulder, and headed to the connecting doors between his dressing room and Cora's bedroom. Carson smiled to himself. Sybil Crawley didn't have such a bad ring to it.

Cora had just sent Hughes downstairs when Robert came in from his dressing room. She was always happy to see him, of course, but she had been looking forward to having a few moments of quiet - to herself.

"Darling, what is it?" she asked, letting the book she had just opened fall against her chest.

"If the baby's a girl," he said, coming over to the bed excitedly, "What do you think of the name 'Sybil?"

"Sybil?" Cora said slowly, enunciating the two syllables. "Ooo, I rather like that Robert. Wherever did you come up with that?"

"Carson!" Robert laughed, sitting down on the bed, "He's read it in a book. I think it's quite pretty. Not quite so matronly as Mary and Edith. A name for the next generation!"

Cora smiled, "I like it - though, what about a middle name?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something, dovey." he said, leaning over to kiss her, "Now, I must skedaddle. I've got a letter to write before the girls and I leave for Rosamund's."

She watched him leave the room - a sweet little spring in his step. When he was gone and she was alone at last, she closed her eyes a moment, the book resting atop her stomach. She giggled softly to herself, and whispered "Sybil?"

And in response - a defiant kick.

*** "Sybil" ****_by _****_Mr. Benjamin Disraeli, was published in 1845. It definitely would have been a book of interest to domestic staff (if they had any time to read, that is!) because it was quite a portrait of the working-class conditions of England. The main character, the daughter of a working-class man, was named Sybil. The book was quite popular and the name saw a surge too for baby girls born in the subsequent decades. A man of Robert's standing certainly would have known, or heard, about the book and likely the character's name. Or, at the very least, by the end of the century, the name would have been a bit more commonplace._**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N, Hello lovelies! Sorry this took a bit longer. I'm getting ready to adopt a pup and, on top of that, we had a terrible blizzard here in the northeast U.S. and so there's been no heat, power, etc. for many days! But here's a little bit more for you. . .thank you again for being so dear and reading, commenting, sharing on Tumblr. . .you're the best!**

* * *

><p>"Do come here my darlings!" Rosamund cheered, clapping her gloved hands together. She had come to the train station to retrieve her dear brother and little nieces from the train. She was pleased, too, to see Robert's valet, the wonderful Charles Carson. She'd known him since she was just a girl and had grown to enjoy his presence when Robert would visit her.<p>

Edith made a beeline for her, as usual. Rosamund wouldn't dream of playing favorites, but she did have a soft spot for little Edith. How hard it must be to be in her sister's shadow. Mary was, even at five, already rather a force to be reckoned with. But Edith was very sweet — a bit chatty, incessantly question-asking, but very sweet.

"Edith, my little love, how happy I am to see you!" she said, sweeping the little girl up into her arms, "Are you terribly excited to visit your dear Auntie Rosamund?"

Edith giggled, wrapping her arms around Rosamund's neck. Robert came over to her and kissed his sister on the cheek, Mary in tow.

"Rosamund, my dear sister." he said, "Wonderful to see you."

"And you, Robert. Tell me- how is Cora?"

"Fine, fine." he smiled. "Mary, do say hello to your Aunt Rosamund."

Mary looked up at Rosamund somewhat calculatingly. "Hello, Aunt Rosamund." she said.

"Hello, Mary darling." Rosamund said, "I bet you are just bursting about going to Hamely's!"

At this, Mary smiled widely. "Oh yes!"

"As soon as Carson's retrieved your bags, Marmaduke will bring our new motorwagen round to take you back to Eaton Square."

"A motorwagen!" Robert said, "How modern of you."

Rosamund blushed, "Oh, well, Marmaduke insisted. Sort of a post-marital gift for us both!"

"Well, it will be exciting for the girls. And perhaps more excitement than our dear Carson will be able to handle."

Lumbering up the platform, Carson came along, arms bursting with suitcases. They were _only _staying in London overnight, but what with two young girls, there was much to carry to and fro when one travelled. As he huffed, he was intercepted just before he reached Robert and Rosamund by a tall, stately chap, dressed in a fine, pressed suit — his red hair glinting beneath his bowler cap.

"Mr. Carson, do let me help you!" he said, taking a bag from Carson just as it fell from his arms.

"Oh, Mr. Painswick, I couldn't-" Carson said, though he was clearly relieved at having a hand.

"It's no trouble at all, . I've got to show you to the motor anyhow."

Carson looked shocked, "The _motor, _Mr. Painswick?"

Marmaduke laughed heartily, "Come now, old boy, you'll love it! It's entirely steam-powered , the edge of technology."

"Is it safe, Mr. Painswick?" Carson said, sweat beading at his temples.

"Quite so!" Marmaduke said. They had reached Rosamund, Robert and the girls. Hands full, Marmaduke smiled invitingly at the lot of them.

"Marmaduke," Robert said, a bit uneasily. "It's very good to see you again."

"Likewise," Marmaduke said, "And hello little Edith and _the Lady Mary."_

Mary smirked, perhaps enjoying the attention. Marmaduke had learned straight away at the wedding last spring that Mary was the most serious child he was likely to ever meet. And to be in his good graces, he may have to humor her a bit.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Painswick." Mary smiled, looking up at Robert for approval. He nodded and then turned back to Rosamund.

"Alright then — show us to this motor of yours!"

Eaton Square may not have been Downton Abbey, but it didn't mean that Rosamund and Marmaduke didn't live in style. Perhaps it wasn't as big — but need it be? It was only Marmaduke, Rosamund and — while Robert could hardly believe it and he knew it greatly unnerved his mother — merely two servants.

"We certainly don't have need for any _more _than that!" Rosamund said again to Robert after dinner that night. The girls had gone up to bed — thoroughly exhausted from a particularly successful trip to Hamley's- so the three adults sat around the parlor drinking their brandy's.

"Surely if it were only you and Cora you wouldn't have the need for an entire houseful of staff." Marmaduke offered.

Robert bristled, "Well, it's not so much a matter of need, it's just how things are done."

Rosamund pursed her lips, "Yes, well, we're quite pleased the way things are now. Though, perhaps when there are children we will at least employ a governess." She gave Marmaduke a small smile and sipped her brandy.

"Speaking of children," Marmaduke said, "You must be anxious to get back to your Cora. When is the baby meant to arrive?"

"Not until the end of October," Robert said.

"Well, it won't be long now!" Rosamund said, turning to Marmaduke, "Don't you just love Robert's little darlings — they really are the sweetest girls."

Robert grinned proudly, "Well, they get that from Cora."

"Well you needn't let her take _all _the credit, dear brother." Rosamund said, swatting the air in front of her dismissively, "You can be rather sweet when you want to be."

"I take it you're praying for a son this time," Marmaduke said, "What with the entail and all."

"As long as a child is healthy, I'm unconcerned." Robert said, his brandy paused at his lips, "Though a son certainly would make the small matter of the title a bit less precarious."

"Lucky me," Rosamund said finishing her drink, "Girls can't inherit."

* * *

><p>Back at Downton, Cora couldn't fall asleep. She never could when Robert was away. She had to chuckle to herself- perhaps that was one of the reasons she hadn't been able to keep a lady's maid: they all seemed so dismayed to find Robert in her bed each morning. Hughes was different, though, she was unfazed — perhaps she even approved. It wasn't like she was an old goat, not like most of the other maids Cora'd had.<p>

She rolled over and turned on the lamp next to her bed. A dim glow filled the room. It was still warm though, so late at night as it was, it had cooled off a bit. The air wasn't so muggy and, instead, she could feel a gentle breeze across the room from the open window. The silky curtains rustled gently and she could hear, somewhere on the estate, the nightly rustles of small animals. Or maybe even birds- it was late, perhaps early morning. She wasn't certain she'd even minded to wind her clock.

So many nights early in their marriage Cora had lain awake in her bedroom, knowing that Robert was only a room away- yet he might as well have been a world. He hadn't disliked her by any means, but the first year of their marriage his worries and insecurities — paired with her delay in producing any children — made him wary of her. Sometime after their first wedding anniversary, when they'd attended many social gatherings together and he saw that she had worked very hard to please him, to become the kind of wife who would one day be Countess, he moved to get closer to her. Not just in mind, body and spirit, but in bed. So too had he been coming to her room more frequently, as they had both become nervous that it was taking so long for Cora to become pregnant. Eventually, with them making earnest attempts almost nightly, it seemed more reasonable for him to just share the bed with her. Of course, when she finally had become pregnant, he couldn't have dreamed to be apart from her. She knew that she'd fallen in love with him the very first time she'd set eyes on him; but she really didn't feel his love for her until they learned she was pregnant. It wasn't that she didn't think he'd fallen for her sooner than that, but finally he'd been given permission: who could fault him for loving his wife when she was going to bear him an heir?

Of course, she didn't do _that, _but Mary- and Edith- had both been healthy and what more could they ask? Rosamund, living in London, regaled horror stories about women she knew whose children, if they survived birth, died before they were four. The tragedy of it weighed heavily on Cora's heart. She knew how fortunate they were to live at Downton, in the country, isolated from most horrors of the world — but the aristocracy had its horrors, too.

She felt a little silly missing him, but it wasn't as if anyone was awake to chide her over it, so she indulged herself in a little bit of misery. She threw back the duvet and stepped out of bed. Her steps light, she made her away across the room -forgoing her dressing gown atop her nightie, as it was still too warm- and quietly turned the knob to Robert's dressing room door.

In the early days of their marriage, it was locked — from her side — nearly always. Eventually, when he'd sought permission to come to her at night with more frequency, she began leaving it unlocked: a practice that had not sat well with previous lady's maids. On nights when Robert was away, she was thankful that she could step inside the room. She didn't even need to turn on the gas lamp, for she knew each little corner intimately and could navigate to his bed without issue. He didn't sleep in it at night, but sometimes napped there after a long ride in the country, or when he'd been traveling — or, if one of them was sick and would keep the other awake all night with incessant coughing and sneezes. So, the linens, and the room itself, still carried his scent; of great comfort to her.

Robert's dog, a yellow labrador named Hathor*, slept peacefully at the foot of the bed. He was getting on in years and rarely traveled with Robert anymore, certainly not when the girls were in tow. Cora would have allowed the dog to sleep with her but she feared she'd have disrupted him with all her tossing in the night. Yet here she was now, crawling under the covers of Robert's bed, having made the poor thing rustle in his sleep.

"Sorry, Hathor." she whispered. The dog licked his chops and soon was snoring peacefully. Cora nestled her face into Robert's pillows and inhaled deeply, hoping to get a bit of his scent. After a few moments she was able to drift peacefully off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>* Hathor - the Egyptian God of Love! Keeping in Robert's tradition of having yellow labs named after Egyptian GodGoddesses._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - **Hi lovies! So, the "multimedia" version of this longer chapter is over on Medium ( / abbymnorman/bc406878603d) - in case you missed my experiment on Tumblr.

This is my last update for a while because I'm adopting a dog and this week is all about pup-proofing my home before she arrives next weekend! But, I couldn't leave you hanging too much. . .this is a major chapter for Chelsie + Cobert, so I hope you like it!

* * *

><p><strong>Two weeks later: October 5th, 1895<strong>

Carson was sitting at the downstairs kitchen table when he heard the scream.

At once, he threw down the shoes he'd been polishing and immediately bolted up, trying to determine where the sound had come from. He raced out of the room and into the hallway, and heard another muffled screech from behind one of the doors.

_Elsie._

He ran down the hall and threw open her door without knocking — and found her standing unevenly atop her bed.

"Miss. Hughes, I heard a scream — are you alright?" Carson said, shutting the door behind him.

He looked up at her incredulously, "Whatever are you doing?"

Elsie blushed, "Oh, Mr. Carson, I'm so embarrassed. I didn't mean to make noise, really — but there's. . ." her face pinked even more, "in the corner, there, a field mouse."

Carson tried not to laugh. "A _mouse_, Miss. Hughes?"

Elsie saw that he was trying valiantly not to poke fun at her, and she straightened her back, looking down at him. "Mr. Carson I'm not afraid of most anything- but I _don't like _mice."

"Oh, well, I don't imagine most people do." Carson said, "Now, where did you see him? I'll grab a broom and-"

"Oh, don't kill the poor thing!" she said, bringing a hand to her chest, "I don't want him dead, I just want him out of my room!"

"Very well then," Carson said, "I've got to find him first."

He took a few more steps into the room, his eyes pinned to the floorboards. He listened intently for the tell-tale squeaking, but saw nor heard not a peep. After a few moments, he knelt down and began to crawl under Elsie's desk, hoping he'd have better luck.

"Oh, Mr. Carson get up, you'll get dirt all over your nice trousers." Elsie said, stepping down from her bed to reach toward him, imploring him to stand.

"Miss. Hughes, don't move about — if we want to catch the mouse we can't well frighten him into a corner. Now, either get back up on your bed or get down here and help me look."

Elsie considered this a moment and, not wanting to give him reason to poke anymore fun at her outburst, took a deep breath and gathered up her skirts, kneeling down on the floor next to him.

"I'm sure I looked a right fool when you walked in," she said, a low chuckle escaping her throat, "Now you're in here tending to me on account of that footle. . ."

"I can't very well hear a lady's scream and not check on her, Miss. Hughes. Though I'm happy to know the source was _only _a small woodland creature and not something of a more pernicious nature."

Elsie smiled to herself.

They crawled about on the floor for a moment, searching for the little mouse until they'd both circled back to the foot of the bed. Carson's nose to the ground, he'd nearly run into her headlong. When they looked up, their faces only inches from one another, they both laughed nervously. He'd never been so close to her before and for the first time he noticed the hint of darkness in her eyes, the rosiness of her cheeks, the fullness of her cerise lips. She didn't break his gaze but, instead, held it — holding, too, her breath — which seemed to be resting anticipatory at her breast.

"Mr. Carson," she whispered, her voice lilting, "I think we've scared him off."

Carson swallowed — overcome with desire and a lust he didn't know himself capable of. She was so close to him, her words- he could feel her hot breath upon his lips, the faint, sweet smell of her perfume or, perhaps, a skin lotion. Her lips parted, a little smile creeping onto her face. Her eyes blinked, long lashes gracing against her cheekbones. He leaned in a bit closer, moving one hand in front of him to balance himself.

His other hand free, he reached up slowly, daring his thumb to gently stroke her lower lip. Her eyes widened, and before his lips touched hers, he heard her breath hitch, then all at once they were locked in a kiss.

He felt her pillowy lips part just slightly, her facing moving closer to him as she rose up onto her knees, her hand coming up to tentatively touch his face. Without breaking the kiss, he, too, felt his body rise — as he moved to lace his fingers through her hair, they were startled by a commotion in the hallway. He pulled away at once, his heart threatening to beat straight out of his chest

"MR. CARSON!" a voice cried. He looked at Elsie — helplessly, and she looked back at him, her breathing labored and her lips now bright red, as red as her cheeks which flushed with either embarrassment, desire or a combination of the two. They heard footsteps approaching the door and Elsie stood in a flash, turning her face away from him. Carson rose — a bit unsteady on his feet — and went to the door.

"Oh, there you are Mr. Carson!" a voice said in time with racing footsteps, "Have you seen Miss. Hughes? Her Ladyship's bell's been ringing for ten minutes straight!"

It was the new cook, Beryl Patmore, her face red to match her hair and a stern, but fretful, expression hovering over her brow.

"She'll go up at once, Miss Patmore. Thank you."

Miss. Patmore gave the valet a quizzical look but, being far to new to the staff to question him, simply nodded hastily and then carried on down the hallway. When she'd left, Carson shut the door and slowly turned back to Elsie, who had not moved from the wall-facing corner in which she stood.

"Elsie," he said — but then stopped. She turned to him, tears in her eyes.

"Mr. Carson," she said firmly, "You will call me Miss. Hughes — and _only _Miss. Hughes." she wiped her eyes clear and strode past him, "If you'll excuse me I've got to tend to her Ladyship."

As she moved past him, Carson turned, crestfallen. "And the mouse. . ." he asked, a small laugh escaping him. He so hoped to somehow remedy what he'd done, having lost himself.

Elsie turned to him sharply, her voice low, "After _that _display, Mr. Carson, I'm sure the poor thing has given up the ghost."

Without another word, she left him standing there. How could he ever be so undignified? So presumptuous? Riddled with disgust for himself, he quickly reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped just as he stepped across the threshold — by the unmistakable _squeak _of a field mouse.

* * *

><p>Cora stood in the middle of her bedroom, shaking violently.<p>

She hadn't felt splendid when she woke, but at this stage in her pregnancy she wasn't surprised by feeling a bit run down. She knew that the baby would arrive by the end of the month, but it was only the first week of October. It was far too early for the baby to come and yet, she had been uncomfortable all morning, and as she stood to ring for Hughes, she felt a release of fluid between her legs, drenching her from the waist down. The surprise of it made her freeze, and, too frightened to take even a step, that's how Elsie found her.

"M'lady, are you alright?" Hughes gasped, running to her. Cora shook so badly she could hardly speak.

"It's too early," she whispered, "Hughes, you've got to help me. It's too early."

"What happened?" Hughes said, looking down at Cora's damp skirts, "Oh, m'lady, come now, let's get you back into bed and I'll run and call for Dr. Clarkson."

Carefully leading her back to her bed, and setting her gently down, Elsie began to wring her hands nervously. Cora's water had broken, no doubt about that, but she was right — it was early yet for the baby to come.

"Hughes, you've got to find Robert." Cora said, "I need him here."

"Where is he?"

"Out on the estate — he took Hathor out to run and I -" she stopped, her hand going to her stomach. She looked up at Elsie fearfully.

"Stay put, m'lady. I'm going to ring for Dr. Clarkson and then I'll find his Lordship." she looked at Cora, her eyes softening. "I'll take care of you, don't worry your pretty head about that."

Though she didn't respond, Cora nodded, tears streaming down her face.

Racing from her room and down over the stairs, Elsie's heart began to beat so fast she could heard it resounding in her ears. She rounded the corner, running into one of the maids, a young girl from Essex named Charity.

"Oh, never been so happy to see you, girl!" she said, breathless, "I need you to run and call on Dr. Clarkson. Her Ladyship's unwell-" she lowered her voice, "it's the bairn."

The young girl's eyes widened in fear, "Oh my," she said, "I'll run as fast as I can, Miss. Hughes." she said, setting down the bucket she'd been carrying and racing out the door. Elsie gathered herself for a moment and then, not knowing what else to do, went downstairs to find Mr. Carson.

Sitting in his room, feeling too humiliated to sit at the table to shine his Lordship's shoes, lest Elsie return downstairs, Carson wondered how it was that he had lost himself in such a moment with her.

He'd never been a man to be overpowered by his desires, his emotions, his fears. Why now, had things suddenly turned out so differently? Was he getting older, less in control? He sighed. He worked so hard at Downton, to work his way up in the ranks, someday maybe he'd even run the house as butler. . .but would he throw it all away, throw away his hard earned reputation for simple lust? For some woman he'd hardly known _a year_? He pondered these dark realities deeply, and was surprised at the forceful knock upon his door that pulled him from these thoughts.

"Yes, come in." he said, setting the shoes aside. He couldn't hide the shock on his face as Elsie appeared in his doorway. She was as white as a sheet and just as flimsy.

"Mr. Carson, I need you to find his Lordship at once. It's urgent." she said, her voice clipped. Carson stared at her a moment.

"Is it. . ." he started, rising from his seat.

Elsie nodded, "The bairn. It's early yet but. . .it's time. I've sent Charity to run for Dr. Clarkson."

"Oh dear," Carson said, beginning to pace, "I'll find his Lordship. You'll stay with — ?"

Elsie nodded, "I won't leave her side 'till it's through." she said, rather grimly. They stood there a moment, a bit awkwardly, and finally Carson moved a step toward her tentatively.

"I'm deeply sorry about earlier, Miss. Hughes. I don't expect you to forgive me for my indecency."

"Mr. Carson it hardly matters now. We've both a job to do." she said, giving him a small smile, "We're all second-fiddle to current events."

She lingered in the doorway just a moment more, then, turning on her heels raced upstairs. And Carson grabbed his hat and headed outdoors to find Robert.

* * *

><p>"Try to keep your wits about you, m'lady." Elsie said, giving Cora's hand a squeeze.<p>

Cora, propped up with pillows in her bed, looked frightfully at Elsie, who had pulled up a chair next to her Ladyship and was holding her hand. Cora squeezed it occasionally when the pain grew too much.

"I'm so afraid, Hughes." she said, "I can't lose this baby."

"You said so yourself, m'lady- this bairn's different. Strong as an ox."

Cora winced, "Yes, well, that would seem to be the case now." She exhaled sharply and turned to Hughes, "If I sit forward slightly, could you press your fists into my lower back? With Edith, the midwife did that and I recall now that it helped a bit."

Elsie nodded, eager to help. "I'll do whatever you need, m'lady. You've only got to say the word."

Cora sat forward and Elsie stood, balling her hands into fists and pressing them into her Ladyship's back. Cora let out a low moan and Elsie looked at her expectantly.

"Is this alright, m'lady?" she asked.

"You're doing a fine job, Hughes. Thank you." Cora turned her head back to Elsie and gave her a small smile, "Don't be so nervous, this might be your first baby but it's certainly not mine." There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, that must be Dr. Clarkson." Elsie said, leaving Cora momentarily to open the door. Indeed, bag in hand, Dr. Clarkson stood smiling in the hallway.

"A little early aren't we, m'lady?" he said, striding over to the bed, "And where is his Lordship? Not out to Ripon, I hope."

"No, he's out on the estate with the dog," Cora said, "Carson's gone to fetch him." She hung her head, another moan escaping her, and Elsie raced back to her side, resuming her stance from before.

"Are you certain your labor has started?" Dr. Clarkson said, opening his bag.

"My waters let go about a half hour ago," she said, "And I can feel — well, it's happening fast. Much faster than before."

Dr. Clarkson studied her a moment, rustling the bedcovers as he moved his hands beneath. Cora raised her knees in anticipation of his exam and Elsie watched, somewhat amazed, as Dr. Clarkson conducted the entire exam without even looking in the direction of his arm.

"Well, you weren't mistaken, Lady Grantham. And it won't be long now." he looked at Elsie sternly, "Miss. Hughes, I need you to call upon a trusted maid, someone who can boil some water for me and fetch some clean linens. I'll mind Lady Grantham until you return. And do, please, try to fetch His Lordship, if you can."

Elsie nodded, "Straight away, Dr. Clarkson" she turned to Cora apologetically, "Don't worry, m'lady, everything's going to be fine."

"Thank you, Hughes." Cora breathed. She turned to Dr. Clarkson, "I can't lose this baby, Dr. Clarkson. I can't." Elsie had almost reached the door and Cora called out to her to wait. "Hughes, before you go — I need you to hear this." she locked eyes with Dr. Clarkson and made her words crystal clear, "Dr. Clarkson if it comes down to me, or the child, I need you to save the child. If it's a boy, it will be Robert's last chance at an heir to the title."

"Oh, m'lady…" Elsie whispered.

"Dr. Clarkson, I need you to promise me." Cora said, the tears starting up again. A sob caught in her throat, and the pain swelling up from within her, she began to cry freely, "I need to know that you won't let this baby die."

Dr. Clarkson swallowed, looking down at his hands. "Lady Grantham, I will do everything that I possibly can to save you _both."_

Elsie was torn — she wanted to go to Cora now, but she knew she needed to get what Dr. Clarkson had requested. She pardoned herself and shut the door behind her. As she reached the top of the stairs, she was startled to run into Mr. Carson, Robert in tow.

"Hughes — is Cora alright?" Robert said, "Has Dr. Clarkson arrived?"

Elsie nodded, "He's with her now, m'lord." she turned to Carson, "Mr. Carson, you know the staff better than I do, who would be the best maid to call upon to help Dr. Clarkson — he needs linens and towels."

"You stay with Lady Grantham," Carson said, "I'll go downstairs and find someone up to the task."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." Elsie said, locking eyes with him a moment. She broke away and led Robert down the hall to Cora's room. As soon as Cora saw him in the doorway, she reached out unabashedly.

He went to her, forgetting himself in her suffering so much so that he hardly noticed that Dr. Clarkson was in the room, arranging his tools atop Cora's vanity.

"Cora, my darling- what's happened?" he asked, sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Robert, I'm so frightened." she said her face hot with tears, "It's too early."

Looking perforce at Dr. Clarkson, Robert loosened his cravat. "Dr. Clarkson will the baby be alright?" he took Cora's hand, "Will Cora?"

Turning away from his makeshift table, Dr. Clarkson sighed, "M'lord, I haven't any reason to anticipate complications but I will take every effort to assure both her Ladyship and the child are delivered safely. It is early yet, but, with proper precautions and attention—."

Cora cried out and the color drained from Robert's face. He never had been much good at this. He was thankful that, in the next moment, Hughes appeared at Cora's bedside, a cool cloth in her hands. She pressed it wordlessly to Cora's forehead, and hushed her gently.

"Robert, don't leave me." Cora pleaded. Hughes brushed her hair back out of her face and looked at Robert anxiously.

"I don't know what to do," he said, resting a hand on Cora's knee. "My darling, men — well, other than doctors — are not properly educated on how to handle these times."

"Lord Grantham, if you would like to stay I would not be opposed. It's become far more commonplace in recent years. I suspect Her Ladyship would be keen on your comfort. Especially if you are expecting an heir this time."

Robert seemed to consider this. He bit his lip, deep in thought, and Dr. Clarkson appeared beside him, a peculiar looking tool in hand.

"I wouldn't want to frighten you unduly, m'lord, but there is an off chance this may be your last opportunity to do so. Her Ladyship is in what we call pre-term labor. The rupture of membranes happened several weeks ahead of schedule — meaning there's no stopping now. The baby will arrive today. Probably by this evening, in fact, if things continue to progress so efficiently." he looked down at Cora, "I have seen this in other women and, not always but often, it leads to subsequent complications in later pregnancies. I could not say for sure but, given that this will be your third birth in the matter of five years, your body may not be able to withstand another." he turned back to Robert, "And should that be the case, m'lord, this will have been your last chance."

Cora sniffled, taking Robert's hand. "Stay here." she said.

Hughes took the cloth from her forehand to rewet it. As she wrung it out, Robert cleared his throat and spoke to her,

"Hughes, I daresay we will both experience a first tonight. I hope that you will be comfortable as an ally not just to Cora- but to me as well."

Elsie smiled, relief washing over her face. Though, she was too plagued with some trepidation. "Certainly, m'lord."

As they settled in, Charity — the young maid — came up with water and clean linens. Elsie caught a brief glimpse of Carson standing somewhat dejectedly in the hallway. She set down the cloth a moment and stepped out, hoping to catch him before he made his way back downstairs.

Closing Cora's bedroom door behind her, she called to him just as he was stepping off onto the first stair.

"Mr. Carson-" she said, wiping her damp hands on her skirt. Carson turned back to her, not quite comfortable looking at her head on.

"How is Her Ladyship?" he asked, gripping the bannister.

"Well enough." Elsie said, "Won't be long now."

Carson nodded solemnly, "Is there anything else I can do — does His Lordship need anything?"

Elsie chuckled, "An ounce of courage wouldn't hurt." she said. Carson didn't quite understand, so she stepped toward him, clapping her hands together, "He's going to stay."

Carson's eyebrows leapt up, "For —"Elsie nodded, "Dr. Clarkson said, you know, this might be his last chance. The bairn, it might be the last one."

Carson nodded, "Well, you may send Charity down to let me know what I can do to help." he stepped off the step and Elsie felt a pull toward him — her heart tugging defiantly at her chest. With quick steps, she went to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He turned toward her, his eyes searching her face.

"Mr. Carson," she said in a whisper, "I'm sorry- about earlier.""You needn't apologize," he said, "I behaved appallingly — unforgivably."

Elsie softened, "Not so bad as all that, Mr. Carson." she took a deep breath, holding on to what she really wanted to say, not sure if now — or ever —would be the proper time to elucidate. He waited patiently for her response, his brown eyes wide and welcoming. "You've to understand something about me, Mr. Carson — this job is all I've got. My sister and I, we struck out on our own so young, all we've got is our work. It's all we can put our faith and trust in."

"I understand completely, Miss. Hughes. I think I lost my wits. I've since recovered them."

They both startled as a shrill screech emanated from Cora's bedroom. Elsie tensed, letting her hand slip from Carson's shoulder.

"I ought to get back," she said, "But I'm not angry with you, Mr. Carson. I just want you to know that."

"Thank you, Miss. Hughes." Carson nodded, "I am deeply appreciative of your kindness."

* * *

><p>Robert watched, somewhat in horror, from the corner of Cora's bedroom as Dr. Clarkson did what seemed to be his fifth exam in so many minutes.<p>

He tried to avert his gaze, but he couldn't take his eyes from Cora, whose face had worn a permanent grimace for the last several hours. Hughes had sat next to Cora's bed without moving a muscle, except to fetch water, and Robert was grateful for her stoicism. Having finished, Dr. Clarkson removed his hand and replaced the duvet, tucking Cora's legs back under it. He turned to Robert,

"Lord Grantham, may I speak to you for a moment?" he said, his voice low.

Robert nodded and the two men stepped into the hallway. He could hear Cora panting as he shut the door, _"Hughes, what is it— what's the matter?"_

"Lord Grantham, I'm going to call for a midwife. I need an extra pair of hands." Dr. Clarkson said, wiping perspiration from his brow, "I'm concerned that the baby will be early, and that the labor will be a difficult one."

Robert swallowed, paling "But she'll be alright?"

"I'd feel a lot better having a midwife to assist me. If there are complications for Lady Grantham after the baby is delivered, I will need to focus solely on her and a midwife will be able to tend to the newborn."

"I understand," Robert said, "Have Carson call for your midwife."

Dr. Clarkson made his way downstairs and Robert returned to Cora's bedchamber. As he stepped in, she was in the midst of a contraction. She had rolled over on to her side and Hughes was kneeling down next to the bed, gripping her hand tightly and pressing a cool cloth to her face. Cora tensed and gave a rather low, choked moan.

"There you are, m'lady." Hughes said softly. Hearing the door click shut, Hughes looked up and smiled at Robert.

"Anything I can do, Hughes?" Robert asked, shifting uncomfortably next to the door — as though suddenly he were desiring to run back through it.

"We're a bit sixes and sevens at the moment, m'lord." she smiled, "But why don't you come have a sit on the bed. You can give my poor daddles a rest!"

Cora exhaled and released Hughes' hands, which Elsie then scrunched into fists and extended, working out the kinks in her sore joints. Robert approached the bed apprehensively and sat down on his side, turning so he was facing Cora. She rolled over toward him and sighed.

"Oh, darling. Perhaps this is too much." she said, her eyes apologetic.

"It's alright, dovey. It's only hard to see you in pain and know that I can't do anything to alleviate it." he reached over and stroked her cheek, "I feel rather a useless fool."

Cora reached up and wrapped her fingers around his, "Having you here makes all the difference," she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Dr. Clarkson returned, a fresh basin of water in hand.

"I've called for a midwife — the best one in Yorkshire. She'll be attending the birth with me just as a precautionary measure. She's en route now and should be arriving shortly." he set the basin down on the table and returned to Cora's bedside, "Now, m'lady, let's have another look shall we?"

Robert cleared his throat, feeling terribly awkward as he watched Cora's legs spread apart beneath the covers and Dr. Clarkson's hands slide unselfconsciously beneath them. He knew, of course, the man was only doing his work — but he was terribly unsettled by the whole affair and was thankful when he saw Dr. Clarkson's hands emerge once again from beneath the bedcovers.

That was, until he saw the look on his face.

"How are your pains, Lady Grantham?" Dr. Clarkson asked tentatively, "Are they coming much more quickly now?"

Cora nodded. Elsie looked at the clock on Cora's night table, "The last few were about three minutes apart," she said.

Dr. Clarkson furrowed his brow, "Well, I think things are going to progress a lot quicker than I anticipated. There is already a great deal of blood." He stood and gestured to the basin, "Miss. Hughes, if you would assist me until the midwife arrives, we're going to need to prepare."

Elsie stared at him, mouth agape, "I beg your pardon, Dr. Clarkson?""Miss. Hughes I'm going to need you to sterilize your hands."

Cora cried out, her hand clutching Robert's. At the sound of it, Robert felt is entire body stiffen. He looked at Hughes anxiously.

"Hughes— what do I do?" he asked breathlessly. Cora's other hand reached blindly for him as she shut her eyes, another shrill cry rising up from her throat.

"Just hold her hand, m'lord." Elsie said, following Dr. Clarkson over to the vanity, "Sooth her hair, tell her she's doing a fine job."

Robert looked at Cora, somewhat helplessly. Her eyes opened and looked at him pleadingly.

"Don't leave, Robert. Please. I need you.""I'm right here, Cora. I won't leave your side."

"Now, Miss. Hughes — this water is scalding, but you're going to need to submerge your hands, then, use this disinfectant. It might sting."

Elsie swallowed nervously, dipping her hands into the steaming basin.

"Oh, _sweet Jesus._" she said under her breath, her fingers burning. Dr. Clarkson touched her arm and gently lifted her hands out, giving her hands and wrists a rub with a bar of terrible smelling soap.

"Sorry for this wretched stuff," he said, "In the city hospitals, though, they've found it has greatly reduced the incidence of puerperal fever."

Not sure exactly what he was alluding to, but wanting to focus as intently on his instructions as she could, Elsie just nodded.

"Now, keep your hands away from your skirts and don't touch anything." Dr. Clarkson warned, "I have a feeling that this baby may arrive before the midwife does — and if that's the case, you'll need to step in."

"Oh, Dr. Clarkson." Elsie breathed, "I don't know the first thing about bairns. The only bairn I ever knew was my sister, Glenna— and I was a just a lass when she was born."

Dr. Clarkson looked at her kindly, "Not to worry, Miss. Hughes. Just listen to me and do precisely as I say."

He returned to Cora's bed side and threw back the covers. For the first time, Robert saw the state of the bed's sheets and felt his stomach flip. He'd certainly seen blood on the sheets before — sometimes after they'd been intimate, or when Cora had her monthlies, but he'd never seen this much blood before. Her bed had become a battleground.

"Should. . .should there be so much blood?" Robert asked.

"Not to worry, m'lord." Dr. Clarkson said, "Just keep your eyes on the lovely Countess."

Robert didn't need to be told twice to obey Dr. Clarkson's command, and he turned his gaze back to Cora, who had grown gravely serious. It was almost as though she no longer knew any of them were in the room. She had an almost murderous look of a determination and intent upon her face.

Dr. Clarkson positioned her legs, careful to drape a sheet down over her for modesty, and his hands began to work again. Cora cried out again, and Robert felt his hands begin to shake with nerves.

"Lady Grantham," Dr. Clarkson said, looking up at her, "If you feel as though you can start pushing—"

He didn't even have to finish his sentence and Cora sat up, gripping Robert's vest and bore down hard.

"Alright, ease off it a bit." Dr. Clarkson said. He turned back to Hughes, "This baby's coming quickly. See those linens there, next to the basin?" he said. Elsie looked back over her shoulder, spotting them. "Take the one off the top there — it's alright, you can touch them. They're sterile. Now, open it up — don't let it touch your skirts or any of the furniture. Then, come stand here, next to me."

Elsie felt as though her knees might give out from under her, but somehow, in a brave trance, she managed to do as Dr. Clarkson said. Standing next to him, she looked down at Robert, who was whiter than the linen in her hands.

"Hughes," he said, his voice unsteady, "What do I do?"

"Oh, m'lord. You're doing just fine."

"Robert!" Cora cried, throwing her head back.

"Yes, my Cora, I'm here." he said, brushing her hair from her eyes.

"Something's wrong— this doesn't feel right." her breathing was fast, "Dr. Clarkson—" gripped with another sudden pain, her entire body pitched forward.

"No— Cora, I need you to relax. Don't push." Dr. Clarkson said sternly.

"What's the matter Dr. Clarkson?" Elsie said, the linen laid across her open palms. It shook right along with her arms.

"Miss. Hughes — are you ready?" Dr. Clarkson said,

"This baby will be out on the next push — it's coming too quickly and I can't control the bleeding. I will need you to take the infant and rub its chest and back vigorously. The color will pink up and the baby should almost immediately begin to cry. Use your clean fingers to help clear the airway—"

"The _airway_?"

"The mouth and nares— the _nose_," Dr. Clarkson said, speaking rapidly. He positioned himself against the bed, bracing his leg against it and turning back to Cora, "Lady Grantham, easy does it now. . ."

She gave a good effort, but as she let out one more shrill screech, all the color drained from her face and her lips began to tremble.

Cora looked up at Robert, tears wetting her eyes. "Robert- I don't feel well.""Cora, my darling," he cried.

"Miss. Hughes," Dr. Clarkson said, "Here, steady now."

Suddenly, from under the sheet draped over Cora's legs, his hands emerged and there, bloodied and squirming, a baby. He snipped the cord and Elsie watched in awe as he placed the baby in her hands.

"Give her back a good rub, then." Dr. Clarkson said, his hands already back beneath the sheet.

"A little girl," Elsie said, looking down at the baby.

The bairn hadn't made so much as a peep, but she looked straight up at Elsie — her huge blue eyes intent and curious. "Come on then, love, let's hear your voice."

"I can't do it, Robert, I feel . . ." suddenly, Cora's eyes rolled back in her head and she fell limply against the pillow. Robert leaned down, shaking her shoulders.

"Cora? Cora!" he yelled.

Just then, the door to the bedroom flew open and in came the midwife, followed by Carson. He stopped in the doorway, averting his gaze from Cora's bed. He found himself facing Elsie head on as she stood by the window, holding the new baby, tears streaming down her face. She locked eyes with Carson and smiled, and then, out of the commotion in the room, came the lusty cries of a baby girl.

"You done a good job," the midwife said, taking the baby from Elsie, "Go on, have yourself a rest. I'll get her cleaned up."

Allowing the bairn to be taken from her arms, Elsie suddenly was overcome with worry— on Cora's bed, Robert was on his knees, attempting to shake her awake. Dr. Clarkson removed rag after bloodied rag from beneath the sheet. Elsie hurried toward the bed but felt arms stop her.

"Miss. Hughes, you look as though you're going to faint." Carson said, "Come, have a sit down."

"I have to go to her," Elsie said, "I promised her I wouldn't leave — not 'till it was over."

She pushed past him and went to Dr. Clarkson's side.

"Miss. Hughes, bring me more towels — and my bag, please."

Carson watched as Elsie crossed the room to retrieve the doctor's bag. She paused, noticing the basin was now tinged with blood. Not one to bark orders, but figuring an exception could be made, she turned back to him.

"Mr. Carson, can you bring up a fresh basin?"

"At once, Miss Hughes." he said, and quickly disappeared, shutting the door to Cora's bedroom behind him. Elsie returned to Dr. Clarkson's side, placing his bag on the bed.

"I need you to to find the vial that contains protamine sulfate, and one of the syringes."

Elsie found the syringe quickly, but the multiple vials of medication made her head spin. The sound of His Lordship's quiet tears made her shake even more so.

"Here — Miss. Hughes, you come round here and hold this— I'll prepare the syringe."

Passing the syringe to Dr. Clarkson and taking a blood soaked towel from him, she stood somewhat stupefied at Cora's feet.

"Press it against her, Miss. Hughes. Apply heavy pressure."

Elsie swallowed, reaching her hands and the towel beneath the sheet. She pressed in to Cora's body, and her wrist brushed up against the inside of her thigh, which had gone cold.

"Cora," Robert whispered,"Please, Cora."

Dr. Clarkson stood and in one swift motion, injected her with the drug. "This should help staunch the bleeding." he said, though no one in the room was listening. There were a few terse moments — he replaced Elsie at the foot of the bed and she stood, Cora's blood on her hands, and they waited.

The baby cooed across the room — still in the midwife's arms.

Cora's face began to pink up and her eyes fluttered open. Robert began to laugh, saying "Thank you, God" under his breath over and over again as he gently kissed her forehead.

Satisfied that things were beginning to improve, Dr. Clarkson exhaled at last. He looked up at Elsie, who had begun to cry.

"Excellent work, Miss. Hughes." he said, "Should you ever decide to leave service, I think you'd make a fine nurse."

"Now, don't try to get her out from under us, Dr. Clarkson" Robert laughed, looking up at Elsie, "We want Hughes to stay at Downton for a very, very long time."

He returned his attention to Cora, and she began to come to gradually. Elsie walked over to the midwife, who had taken a seat in the chair next to Cora's vanity. The baby, cleaned up now with good color, was swaddled in a clean blanket and looked ready to fall asleep.

"She's okay?" Elsie asked quietly.

The midwife nodded, "Fit as a fiddle." She looked past Elsie at Cora's bed, and saw that Robert had helped Cora to sit back up — positioning her amongst several pillows and tucking the blankets gently around her. Exhausted, but present, Cora turned her head slowly toward Elsie.

"Hughes," she breathed, "Is the baby okay?"

The midwife nodded at Elsie and handed her the baby — the gentle weight so sweet in her arms. She walked over to Cora's bedside, giving the baby's soft cheek a stroke.

"She's beautiful, m'lady." Elsie whispered, placing her in Cora's arms.

Cora looked stricken for a moment at the realization that she had not produced an heir, but as she took the baby from Elsie and held the little one against her breast, she was overwhelmed with love.

"My God," she breathed, "She's so extraordinarily pretty."

"I've seen a lot of babies in my day, Lady Grantham." The midwife said, picking up linens from the floor, "And I must say that baby has got to be the most beautiful child I ever seen."

The newborn looked up at Cora, suddenly wide awake. Her big, deep blue eyes so alert and ready for the world. She maneuvered a tiny hand out of her swaddling and clasped the lace of Cora's nightgown.

"Oh, Robert." Cora said, turning toward him. He had yet to speak, and instead, was staring with rapt attention at his daughter.

"What you've done, Cora." he said, "I never knew — I never knew it at all. All this time, I never knew this. Just a day ago I . . .I could feel this child, somehow, as I pressed my body to yours — and now," he began to cry, a small laugh of awe escaping him, "Now she's here and she's so brilliantly pretty," he reached down and offered his finger to the child, who grasped it tightly in her hand, "and so _strong._"

Elsie felt her own tears burning her eyes and throat, and she turned away from the bed. Giving a nod to the midwife, and Dr. Clarkson, who placed an appreciative hand on hers as she walked by, she headed for the door. As she put her hand on the cool doorknob, a voice stopped her.

"Hughes," Robert said. She turned slowly, unable to hide her display of emotion.

"Yes, m'lord?"

Robert held her gaze a moment, then offered his thanks. "Thank you for staying here. For saving her."

Elsie couldn't speak — she was too overcome. She only bowed her head and gave him, and her Ladyship, a smile. Then, she turned and left the room. As the door shut behind her, she leaned her weary body up against the dark wood. She closed her eyes, her hands coming to her face, and erupted into low sobs. She didn't even know exactly why she was so tearful.

"Miss Hughes?"Her eyes flickered open. Mr. Carson stood, basin in hand, at the top of the staircase. He looked at her wordlessly.

"Oh, Mr. Carson." she said, wiping her face quickly, "Thank you." She moved toward him to take the basin from him, but found that she couldn't stop the tears from coming. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she let go. Carson placed the basin on the long, hall table and went to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Is everything alright?" he said, "With the baby and Her Ladyship?"

Elsie sniffled, "Oh, yes — the bairn's perfect. Beautiful. A lass. And Her Ladyship was a bit down for a bit, but all's tickety-boo now."

"Very good," Carson said softly, "And you, Miss Hughes. Are you alright?"

He looked down at her with those soulful brown eyes — as deep of his voice and with likewise timbre. She started to nod her head, but then, instead she felt herself crumble into him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pressed her face into his chest. After a moment, she felt his arms envelope her — pressing her tightly against his body. One hand came up and stroked her hair, and she heard his breath _shush _against her ear.

"There, there." he said, "You're alright."

* * *

><p>In Cora's bedchamber, the midwife and Dr. Clarkson had finished tidying up and were gathering up their things.<p>

As they spoke quietly in the corner to one another, Cora and Robert spoke in hushed tones on the bed to their newest daughter. Robert held the baby, his big arms dwarfing her. Cora smiled sleepily next to him, her eyes heavy-lidded, but bright.

"She does look like a Sybil." she said, stroking the baby's cheek softly. "What about a second name?"

Without looking up from his daughter, with whom he was completely enraptured, he replied "What about Sybil Cora — after her beautiful mother?"

Cora blushed, "Oh, wouldn't you rather Violet — for _your_ mother? Wouldn't she think us fast to give my name to her?"

"I'll handle Mama," he said, "This baby, Cora. . .she's your baby. She will be the last. I won't risk losing you."

"What about the entail?" she said quietly. The baby stirred, as if in response.

"I won't put it ahead of your life," he said, "I love, you Cora. More than I ever thought I could love anyone."

"I love you too, Robert." she murmured. He beamed at her and leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. Between them, the baby began to squirm, her little feet wiggling in her swaddling — and a spirited whimper escaped her. Pulling away, Robert looked down at his daughter, chuckling. "You were right, Cora. She's certainly of a different breed," he glanced up at her, somewhat knowingly, "I think she's going to be a bit of a rebel."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N **Hi loves! Oh, so sorry I haven't updated in a bit. Dog things, work things, life things - ahhhh. Here's a bit more of the story for ya!

_Christmas Eve, 1895_ As soon as Elsie had finished helping Cora into her nightgown, she tiptoed over to Sybil's bassinet.

Having forgone a wet-nurse, or even allowed Nanny to care for her baby girl as she did Mary and Edith, Sybil was never far from her mother's arms the last three months since her birth. It suited Cora, as she'd been on bed rest for the first month and had ample time to bond with the newest Crawley girl. The only person, other than Robert of course, who had known the privilege of caring for her was Elsie.

Sybil slept peacefully in her crib, which had been passed down several generations and had so too been the first bed of Mary and Edith. Elsie reached down and tucked the afghan around her little feet a bit snugger. Winter had arrived at Downton and though the fires roared and crackled in each room, there was still a bit of a chill in the air.

"There you are now, jo." she cooed.

Tucking herself under the blankets of her bed, Cora smiled. She had come to feel truly grateful for her lady's maid. Sybil was a good baby- but she was still a baby, and though she tried not to worry anyone, Cora's health still wasn't tip-top after the birth. She tired quickly and found that most days, she needed to rely on Hughes more now than she ever had during the course of her pregnancy.

"Hughes," Cora whispered, "Why don't you bring her over before you leave, she'll want to nurse soon."

Elsie grinned, knowing she'd have a moment to cuddle the bairn a moment before she handed her off to Cora for the night. She gently lifted Sybil from the crib, not wanting to wake her, and gently held her against her bosom. She still had the sweet scent of a new life, downy tufts of dark hair the exact shade as Cora's, and perfectly porcelain skin. Walking her over to Cora's bedside, she gently lowered her into her waiting arms.

"You're a natural," Cora said quietly, "And Sybil loves you, I can tell."

"Oh, she's such a sweet, wee lass, m'lady." Elsie said, stifling a yawn. They had all been hard at work the last few night's preparing for Christmas. Elsie knew that Mary and Edith would wake the house from bottom-up bright and early tomorrow and she was eager to cozy into her warm bed with a cup of tea and drift off.

"Hughes, before you go, I have a little something for you." Cora said. She gestured toward her vanity with her gaze and Elsie moved toward it, her hand hovering expectantly. "Open the top drawer — it's a small, parcel with a gold bow."

"Oh, m'lady, you needn't have." Elsie blushed, "You've given me so much."

Cora smirked, "You may well have saved my life, if you recall Hughes. I hardly think I'm out of line to proffer a small token to you on Christmas."

Elsie opened the drawer and lifted a small box out. She shut the door quietly and looked up at Cora.

"You must open it now," Cora said giddily, "I can't wait until morning."

Turning the package over in her hands, Elsie untied the bow and gently lifted the lid on the box. Inside there was a beautiful silver locket — nicer than anything she'd ever owned.

"Oh, m'lady, it's too much." she said, stroking the cool silver, "Oh, it's so beautiful."

"Open it," Cora said. Sybil began to fuss in her arms and she rocked her gently.

Elsie clicked the locket open and, inside, there was a very fine lock of dark hair.

"I wanted you to have a lock of Sybil's hair." Cora said, "I hope you don't think it's a silly token."

Elsie gasped, looking up at Cora from across the room, "Oh, m'lady, not at all. It's the most precious gift I've ever received. I can't thank you properly."

"You've no need to. I'm overjoyed to give it to you."

She studied Elsie's face a moment; the look she wore gazing down at the little curl of baby hair was akin to the day Cora had allowed her lady's maid to feel Sybil kicking inside her. The look she had seen then may have been regret, but now it seemed to wind down much deeper into poor Miss. Hughes - a corkscrew of possibility, having struck rock.

"Hughes, I hope it doesn't make you sad."

Elsie looked up, her fingers resting gently at the side of her face. Her cheeks were flushed, as she was staving off tears. "Oh, no m'lady. Not sad. Grateful you've both come through it. Blessed to be able to take good care of you both."

"That's not exactly what I meant." Cora said. "I don't mean to pry but," a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "It is Christmas Eve. Perhaps you'll forgive me."

Elsie swallowed, "In the spirit of the season."

"You are so wonderful with Sybil - you've been so loving to all three of my girls. And I see you giving a shoulder or a warm hand to the young maids." She gazed at her softly, "Hughes, you would be such a wonderful mother. You are, too, of course a splendid lady's maid but-" Cora bit her lip, thinking a moment. From her arms, Sybil cooed against her breast, "Hughes is it enough for you, at Downton? I don't mean to say I don't want you to stay - I do, very much. But I'd hate to think I'm keeping you from a more fulfilling life. On a farm, with a bunch of little children running about your skirts." Her eyes brightened, "Perhaps they'd even have your lovely brogue."

"Oh, m'lady." All her strength pulled up, trying to keep tears away, "I'm here, I've chosen a life in service because it's the best life I could hope to have." She shook her head, hoping the tears would shake right back down into her tear ducts, "It's all my choice, whatever comes of it."

She took a few steps nearer to the bed, tucking the blankets around Cora's feet. She let her eyes linger a moment on the back of Sybil's head, which was nestled into her mama's breast.

"As long as you're sure," Cora said, waiting for Elsie to lift her gaze. When she did, there was a brief pause as the two women exchanged carnal knowledge - one who was a mother because it was her duty, and one who was not because it was hers.

"Happy Christmas, Hughes." Sybil's tiny fist emerged from her blanket and Cora looked down, unbuttoning the top of her night dress.

"Happy Christmas, m'lady." Elsie smiled. She bid Cora goodnight and stepped out into the hallway. As soon as the felt the door click shut, she clutched the tiny box to her chest and felt tears begin to flow freely down her cheeks. She would let herself have this minor moment - it was Christmas after all - but that was all.

She would shed no more tears for bairns that weren't.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Hi loves! Sorry the formatting was screwed up on this one for a while - should be fixed now? Here's a smidge to tide you over - and set you up for some wonderful Christmas chelsie cheer in the next chapter! ;) Oh, and a little Cobert too, of course. Charity's just here to nudge everyone's love along. Consider her our representative in this story - the embodiment of all shippers! 3

* * *

><p>Charity Victoria Edmunds was <em>always <em>rushing somewhere. She had never wanted to come to Downton Abbey, never wanted to join service, but when her mother died she, being the eldest of six children, needed to find a way to help her family survive. Her parents had done well, owning a tea shop which her mother ran with quiet strength and finesse. Her father thought, with Charity's help, the shop would continue on even in her mother's absence.

They'd had to close up before the end of the season. The magic of _Edmund's Tea Parlor _evaporated along with the ashes of Mrs. Edmunds. Her father had been able to find a job as a cook in a big London house, but they didn't need maids and Charity wasn't sure she could manage doing anything else. Her youngest siblings went to live with her aunt Bernice, who was terribly strict and she knew her brothers and sisters were scared and unhappy. When she was offered the maid's position at Downton, though it meant she had to leave London, she couldn't say no. If she worked hard enough for long enough, she could send enough money home to help her family come back together.

She was rushing to finish her work so that she could go to bed when the glistening snow caught her eye. _Oh yes, _she thought, _It's Christmas Eve_. She hoped that her aunt would be kind enough to get the little ones at least a small treat for the holiday. She had been able to send her father a little bit of extra money last month, but she knew it wasn't enough for presents. Bernice had money, but no heart, and that might have been something Charity had in abundance, but not something she could put in the post.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear the footfalls of Elsie — the lady's maid— approaching her from the far end of the hallway. She had only been at Downton a few weeks longer than Elsie, but Elsie was older and, of course, as a lady's maid, a far more respected member of the staff. In many ways, Elsie reminded her of her mother — dark hair, bright eyes, a soft smile. Sometimes she would round the corner and see Elsie holding one of her Ladyship's garments beneath the light of a gaslamp as she mended it, and for a second Charity's breath would hitch — could have just as welll been her dear mother sitting there.

"Charity why aren't you in bed?" Elsie said, startling the girl. Seeing that she'd pulled the maid from a deep reverie, Elsie placed a warm hand on the girl's arm to sooth her, "I don't imagine it's because you're excited about Saint Nicholas."

Charity offered her a small smile, "No, Miss Hughes. Just missing my family is all."

Elsie softened her gaze and took the girl's cool hand, squeezing it gently. She almost recoiled when she felt how cold the girl's hands were!

"Oh, love, come on then. Let me make you a cup of tea, you're cold as a corpse standing out here in the hall."

Warming her hands against the steaming teacup, Charity smiled up graciously at Elsie. "Thank you kindly, Miss Hughes."

"Nothing a warm cuppa can't fix, jo." she said, pouring herself a cup. Outside the winter wind blew hard against Elsie's bedroom window. It sent a shiver up Charity's spine. She hoped that her siblings were tucked warm in their beds.

"How is the baby?" she asked Elsie, beaming. Ever since little Lady Sybil had been born, she couldn't help but ask Elsie about her every chance she had. She felt a little special tug toward the baby girl — she had, after all, been a little instrumental in the comings and goings of her arrival. Her youngest sister was just a baby still— only three years old. Seeing the Crawley girls always made her a little sad. One day she hoped to have a houseful of babies herself, and hopefully loving them would make the ache of her mother's loss a little bit less. Maybe someday she'd have her family all together again.

"Oh, sweet as can be." Elsie said, "Her Ladyship's still a bit weebly, but not that I mind. More time to cuddle the bairn!"

Charity sipped her tea and watched a flush of pride come over Elsie's face.

"Miss Hughes — perhaps it's about time you had a _bairn _all your own!" Charity laughed, mimicking Elsie's thick brogue. She only meant it sweetly, but the remark made the poor lady's maid face fall swifter than the big, wet snowflakes that hurtled toward the ground outside.

"Oh, lass. That's a broken dream, I'm afraid."

"No, Miss Hughes! Certainly not. You're quite lovely I'm sure you could have your pick of suitors!"

Elsie smiled sadly, "Hardly so, my dear. But I thank you for your confidence." She sighed into her teacup, "Besides that it's less about the man and more about the nature of my work — you marry your career when you enter service." She flicked her eyes up the girl, "You're young, though. Smart as a whip. You've got time to go another way."

She reached across the table and patted Charity's hand affectionately. Charity sighed herself in response, her tea nearly finished.

"Do you want to know a secret?" the girl said, her mouth turning up in a mischevious grin.

Elsie paused, her teacup halfway to her mouth. It clinked against the saucer as she set it down, "I suppose I can't resist."

Charity leaned across the table, "I think Mr Carson is keen on you."

"Oh, Charity love, don't be daft."

"No, I mean it Miss Hughes! He fancies you."

Elsie felt her face flush. Charity couldn't help but giggle at her blushing.

"You fancy him too, don't you?" She whispered, her spirit brightening. Elsie only shook her head dismissively, happy to have made the girl smile.

"It's late, Charity, you must be knackered! All this talk of _love _and bairns!"

Elsie finished her tea and stood when she heard Charity chuckle.

"_I_ never said anything about_ love, _Miss Hughes_."!_

* * *

><p>Beryl Patmore had only been at Downton a few months. She'd come on as assistant cook initially — but when the old cook, Mrs. O'Malley, took ill at the end of the summer, she took over the entire kitchen in her absence.<p>

Last week O'Malley's sister had called to say that she wouldn't be returning to service, and so Lord Grantham had told Beryl that the kitchen was all hers! Normally she'd have been thrilled at the opportunity- but not a week out from the newest fad of a holiday* gathering- the largest of the year, too. It was late, but Christmas Eve in the kitchen was a quietly bustling place. Careful not to wake any of the house, but still with so much work to do, she knew she wouldn't get more than a wink or two of sleep. She felt herself nodding off, stirring cake batter, when Elsie stepped into the room. The two women had become fast friends — both with sharp wits and a longing for their sisters, it was only natural that they had a bit of a kinship.

"Oh, hen*- you're going to work your hands to the bone!" Elsie said, coming over to the large, oak table where Beryl stood, "Can I do anything to help?"

"Put me out of my misery, Elsie!" Beryl laughed, dropping the spoon into the batter — her hands cramping up. "Oh, fiddle."

"Here, let me have a go." Elsie said, reaching for the bowl. Beryl handed it to her without further fuss and slumped down in the closest chair.

"Christmas," she huffed indignantly, "Silly hol'day if you ask me."

Elsie laughed, slipping her finger round the rim of the bowl. She licked the gooey batter from her finger — '_mmming_' with approval.

"Beryl, love, this is your best yet." she said, "The little ones are going to devour it."

Smiling, Beryl reached across the table and took a lick for herself. Her reaction was not so sweet. "Blast! Needs more vanilla."

She stood up and took the bowl from Elsie, "Did you send Glenna an'thing for a gift?"

Elsie sat down, her eyes heavy. She watched Beryl stirring the batter and the smooth, repetitive motion almost rocked her to sleep. "I wrote her a letter. Told her about the bairn and all that. I didn't have time to get a trinket."

"Same," Beryl said, heaving another sigh, "I didn't even have time to send a letter. They'll probably think I've died and gone to heaven."

Elsie smiled, resting her chin in her hand. The warmth from the stove made the room cozy. Outside it had begun to snow even harder, the wet snowflakes pelting the window. The little ones would be so delighted to see it in the morning.

"How much more've you to do this evening?" she asked Beryl.

"Oh, puttin' together the Crackers*, but most of the sweets will be done after this cake — but then there's a goose, two ducks, a swan and I was plannin' on roast beef but Mr. Taylor didn't have it up for me at the butcher's this morning, so I don't know what I'll do 'bout that- and then there's the trimmings."

"My, my." Elsie said, "And they'll eat all of it, you suppose?"

"If there anything like the last house I cooked for, they will." She laughed, "So if you want any o' the Crackers, better take one before you go to bed tonight — there won't be any left tomorrow night."

"I think I'll do that," Elsie said standing, "Might I take one to Mr. Carson?"

Beryl stopped stirring and looked up at Elsie knowingly, "Sure he'd love that. He's sweet on you."

Elsie blushed, "Oh, that's enough."

"He is, Elsie. I swear it." She dropped the spoon again and cursed, shooing Elsie away, "Go on, go tuck in. I've got to get down to work on these or I won't sleep 'till I'm dead."

"Goodnight then," Elsie said, grabbing two of the brightly papered Crackers from the countertop and heading toward Mr. Carson's room.


	13. Chapter 13

Carson was sipping his sherry by the window to his bedroom, watching the snow fall outside.

The estate was lit only by the moon — the white light from which cast through his window and perfectly illuminated the falling snowflakes. They moved slowly through the air, almost hovering, until they fell softly into a thick blanket that came up nearly to his windowpane.

In the hall he heard Elsie's familiar footfalls approaching his door, and a moment later when there was a small knock, he couldn't help but smile as he invited her in.

"Mrs. Patmore said if we didn't have ours now there wouldn't be any left for us by Boxing*" she smiled, handing him one of the colorful Crackers. Carson put down his sherry glass and took it. He offered Elsie his chair by the window and then sat on the edge of his bed so they could face one another.

"I haven't had one of these since I was a child," Carson smiled, turning the tube over in his hands. He shook it gleefully and the insides rattled.

"I've never had one at all," Elsie said sheepishly, "I didn't even know what they were about until Mrs. Patmore showed me this morning when she started filling them."

"If I recall, the Scots have some other holiday to celebrate this time of year?"

Elsie smiled fondly, "Hogmanay* The New Year! My sister and I always ran around outside in the snow, trying to be the first-footer*."

"First-footer?"

"Aye — Hogmanay tradition — the first to set foot 'cross the threshold after the stroke of midnight is a bearer of good fortune," she waggled the cracker at him, "And trinkets — but never the likes of these."

"Do you know how to open them?"

"I hoped maybe you'd show me?" she said, her eyelashes fluttering.

"Oh, of course! They're quite a little thrill." he said, leaning toward her. She leaned in a little herself, watching him from under her long eyelashes. Carson cleared his throat, "Now, you take that end — go on, now."

Elsie delicately held one end of the cracker, the tissue-paper crinkling against her palm, "Like this?"

"Beautiful," Carson said "Now, I'll take this end, on my count pull it toward you."

"Okay," Elsie said, bracing herself. Carson laughed,

"Well, you don't have to pull quite so hard, Miss Hughes."

Elsie blushed, "Oh,"

"Alright, one. . .two. . .aaaand three!"

At once, they both pulled on their respective ends and crisp _pop! _echoed throughout Mr. Carson's room. Elsie giggled in delight, reaching down into her lap to retrieve a goody.

"Oh, that _was_ quite a thrill." she said, "And look— it produced a biscuit!"

Carson looked down between his feet, where the other biscuit had fallen. He set the remnants of the cracker atop the quilt on his bed and leaned down.

"Oh, drat! It seems my biscuit has toppled to the floor."

Biscuit halfway to her parted lips, Elsie paused. She quietly closed her mouth and looked at Carson, who was looking at her with faux doe-eyes.

"So sad, Mr. Carson." she said, elongating her vowels and deepening her voice to emphasize the burr, "Want half of mine?"

Carson smiled, "If I'm not mistaken, the biscuit you're holding is butterscotch, which, if I recall, _you _don't fancy."

Elsie made a face and leaned over to inspect the biscuit fully in the light from Carson's bed table gas lamp. "Oh. So it is." she said quietly. She sighed and handed him the biscuit, "You're lucky day, isn't it?"

Carson took it, beaming like a happy child, and popped it into his mouth.

"Lucky for _you,_ Miss Hughes, there's more to a festive, holiday cracker than biscuits." Handing her his half of the cracker, which rattled with unseen prizes, he watched her eyes widen.

Elsie took the cracker, turning it upside down so that the contents could spill into her lap. Where her dress pooled between her legs, there appeared several beautiful glass marbles, a flick-book of children jumping rope, and a thaumatrope of a bird cage.

"Whatever is this?" she asked, inspecting the thaumatrope carefully. Carson reached for it excitedly.

"It's a thaumatrope! A most splendid toy. Here, allow me." Taking it from her gently, he carefully took the strings on either side of the small disc, onto which one side, a bluebird had been painted, and a gilded cage upon the other. "See, you twist the strings on either side so that the disc moves very rapidly back and forth . . .and then, the picture is revealed! The bird's in the cage, there, you see? It's an illusion."

Elsie watched as Carson's nimble fingers twisted the string. She watched as hands with more intensity than the toy — how delicate they were, despite their size and strength. Carson chuckled, handing the thaumatrope back to her. "Now, I think that a _far_ better prize than a biscuit."

Elsie grinned, twisting the strings slowly herself.

"Mr. Carson. . .not to dredge up feelings unnecessarily but. . ." she licked her lips contemplatively, watching the thaumatrope's spinning slow. "That day, when the bairn came. . .and you helped me look for the mouse."

She flicked her eyes up at him and saw that he was looking down at his lap, stroking the paper of the cracker absentmindedly.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Miss Hughes, I hesitate to even discuss this topic, because I feel a great deal of shame. I can never repent sufficiently for my actions that day."

Elsie leaned over, placing a hand delicately on his knee. She found his gaze and held it, "Mr. Carson, I don't want you to feel ashamed."

"I merely lost control, Miss Hughes. An attractive woman, close proximity-" he swallowed, brushing his hair back, "-it's a good man's failing."

"I will just say one thing, Mr. Carson, and I promise we can allow the subject to rest." She paused, waiting for him to look at her again. He waited for her with baited breath. "Trouble shared is trouble halved."

He allowed himself a small smile of relief. Elsie sat back in his chair and let her gaze drift to the window. Outside, the accumulation of powdery white snow sparkled in the moonlight.

"Oh, how pretty it is." she said, letting her elbow lean on the windowsill, her chin resting in her palm as she gazed out at the black night. Carson blinked, watching her reflection in the window.

"Yes," he said sighing, "Pretty indeed."

* * *

><p>"What a marvelous sight you are." Robert said, coming in from his dressing room.<p>

Cora was nursing Sybil, who was slowly falling asleep— _a little_ _milk drunkard _as her mother would call it. She stroked her cheek gently, and smiled up at Robert who was crawling into bed next to her.

"Exhausted perhaps," Cora yawned, "I wouldn't venture marvelous." She looked over at Robert, whose soft gaze fell over her like fleece. It warmed her all the way down to her toes, which she brushed up against his leg beneath the sheets. Sybil began to drift off to sleep, her mouth having slipped from Cora's breast. Tiny fist curling, the baby yawned.

"May I?" Robert asked, holding his arms out to Cora.

She smiled, "The last one to hold her has to get up to put her back in the bassinet."

"It would be my honor." he said as Cora passed Sybil to him. The baby stirred, her eyes heavy with slumber. She cooed and Robert rocked her gently, watching as her little face relaxed into sleep.

"What time will Rosamund and Marmaduke be arriving tomorrow?" Cora asked, buttoning her nightgown.

"Midmorning, I think. Before dinner at least."

Cora sighed, "Do you think they'll have a child soon?"

"I couldn't say, but you know Rosamund-" Robert shrugged, "She gets whatever her heart desires." He looked down at Sybil, who had fallen fully asleep, her lips pursed, still rooting for Cora's milk.

"Surely she'll just fall in love with Sybil." Cora smiled, "She's always been so good with the girls."

"Particularly Edith." Robert ruminated, "Though, I suppose is only natural, since I think Mary reminds her far to much of herself."

"Mary is a Crawley through and through" Cora said, tucking Sybil's blanket more snugly around her, "Sometimes I fret that she will grow to see me as insufferably American."

Robert smiled at her gently, "She adores you Cora."

"Well, she's not quite old enough to realize how different I am from the rest of her family — though, at times I think she does sense that we differ in our inherent sensibilities."

"Like your Christmas eggnog?" Robert said, pulling a face, "Ghastly stuff."

Cora's eyes brightened, "Oh, _eggnog. _What a shame we won't have any tomorrow."

"Well, I wouldn't put it past that Mrs. Patmore to anticipate your need for it. She seems to have a particular knack for honoring your American palate."

Cora smiled, "It would certainly be a delightful surprise."

Robert looked past her out the window. He squinted into the darkness, trying to see if it was still snowing. The bedroom was bathed in the golden glow of candlelight, and he could hear Sybil's tiny snores rising up from his arms. Next to him, Cora giggled peacefully, resting her head upon his shoulder. After a few peaceul moments, he began to hum softly.

Lifting her head slightly, she look at him pecuilarly.

"Nanny was singing to the children while they laid out their Christmas stockings," he smiled, "I haven't been able to stop hearing it since."

He gently rose from the bed and tiptoed across the room to lay Sybil in her bassinet. "Noel, noel. Born is the king of Israel." he sung softly.

"And by the light of that same star, three wise men came from countries far," Cora sang, her voice lilting from the bed. Robert turned to her and smiled, his face half-shaded in candlelight.

He reached in to tuck the blanket more tightly around Sybil. Together, he and Cora finished the verse, their voices drifting up into the rafters and accompanied by the crackling of the fireplace.

"_To seek for a King was their intent_

_And to follow the star wherever it went._

_Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel_

_Born is the King of Israel!"_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi guys! Thank you for still being here, indulging in all the fluff. I love your comments! :D**

_1. Boxing Day actually started in big houses like Downton because on the actual holiday servants didn't have time for their own presents or celebrations (too busy taking care of the family!) so the day after /Christmas was the servant's unboxing - they'd do their presents while the family recovered from the festivities ;)_

_2. In Scotland, Hogmanay is basically New Year's Eve/New Year's Day celebrations - and it was (maybe still is, I'm not sure) the major winter holiday rather than Christmas._

_"3. "First-footer" was the first person (maybe a relative or neighbor) to cross the threshold on the first day of the new year - they brought treats, good luck, etc. Since Elsie and her family lived on a farm, I thought perhaps they wouldn't have had neighbors close enough by - so it might have been fun for her and her sister to try to be the first-footer :)_

_4. Were you able to see the picture of the thaumatrope on Tumblr? (downtonabigail) They're really fun! A simple toy but a fun one especially if you like illusions._


	14. Chapter 14

Before the first light of morning, Cora was awakened by a soft hand upon her cheek.

"Mama," a little whisper came, "It's Christmas!"

Blinking awake, she saw Mary kneeling next to the bed, her eyes bright and her face lighting up the room with Christmas joy. Edith was sitting behind her wearing an identical grin. Cora pulled her hand out from beneath the warmth of the comforters and stroked the backside of her hand along Mary's face.

"So it is," she yawned. "Go sit with Edith by the fire and have your stocking."

The girls clamored over one another, squealing in delight, stockings clutched tight to their chests. By the firelight, they began to paw through them eaglerly. Cora rolled over, sliding her foot across the warm sheets to find Robert's. He was still sound asleep, snoring lightly.

"Darling," she whispered, kissing his cheek, "The girls are awake."

He groaned, but a small smile crept across his face. Eyes fluttering open, he stretched, reaching a hand up to cup her face. She grasped it, bringing to her lips. "Happy Christmas."

He yawned, pushing himself up right. Looking past her, he chuckled at Mary and Edith, whose holiday glee was already fully spun — and the sun hadn't even risen up over the horizon yet.

"Happy Christmas, darling." He said, throwing the covers back. He padded across the floor, the cool wood giving him a slight chill, and he joined the girls by the fireplace- eager to warm up. Sitting down between them, he responded enthusiastically as they showed him the trinkets pulled from their respectively stockings.

Cora sighed, gently peeling the covers back on herself, gently slid out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. Pulling it tightly around her, to stave off the cold, she tiptoed over to Sybil's bassinet. The baby, too, was already awake, her tiny fists punching the air. She cooed when she saw Cora.

"Happy Christmas, my beauty." she whispered, reaching down to slide her hands beneath Sybil's blanket. Scooping her up into her arms, she held the baby tightly to her bosom. Rocking her gently as she crossed the room, she slowly lowered herself down into the chair next to the fireplace. As sybil nestled in the crook of her arm, she reached over to turn up the gaslamp, then began to unbutton her nightgown, all in one swift motion. As she settled the baby to her breast, she saw Robert gazing up at her from his spot on the floor. She smiled at him, letting her eyes flutter closed, content. Sybil happily sucking away at her breast, the crackling of the fire, her girls laughter and the feeling of Robert's hand coming to rest on her knee warmed her from the inside out.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ellie, stop it or I'll clobber ye!" Glenna yells, spinning around to face Elsie, her wild auburn locks curling from the wet air. Elsie blinks snowflakes from her eyelashes and giggles, her voice rising up into the treetops.<em>

"_You're all bum and parsley!" she teases, grabbing at her younger sister's scarf. The girls twirl around in the dark. All around them the world is dark and quiet, and if they hush they can almost hear the sound of snow crackling against the ground._

_Off in the distance — from the other side of the valley—they hear it. The church bell calling out midnight. As the chimes carry through all of Argyll, the two girls take off toward home, across the length of their farm, above them the stars twinkling. As she huffs, trying to fill her lungs with enough air to get her home before her sister, Elsie sees her breath freeze almost in midair; a puff-cloud of crystals. Glenna's just a step ahead of her, she's smaller and therefore faster, and Elsie reaches out, lunging at her, grabbing her scarf and pulling Glenna back. She missteps and they both topple into the snow, the powder wafting up as they land softly._

"_I'll tell Da!" Glenna cries, scrambling from her elder sister's playful grasp. Elsie leaps up, racing to get ahead of her._

"_Don't be a wee clipe!" she says without looking back. She can hear nothing but her own breath and their footfalls crunching through the snow — she can see the light of their home in the distance._

_If she stays steady, she'll win._

* * *

><p>She startled awake; her entire body twitching as though she'd fallen. Dreaming of Argyll, of racing her sister to be the harbinger of good luck for her family. Lying in bed, at Downton, she still felt winded — as though she were still running. Forever trying to be that good little farm girl.<p>

She dressed quickly, dutifully checking the looking glass to be sure her hair was tidy before she step out into the kitchen. Half expecting to find Mrs. Patmore there, still hard at work, she startled a bit startled to see the kitchen empty-all but for Mr. Carson.

He looked up from the slab of toast he was buttering and smiled at her. She couldn't help but smile back — she'd never seen Mr. Carson so relaxed before. Perhaps he'd had a hot toddy before bed last night _to be festive._

"Happy Christmas, Miss Hughes."

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson" she said, sitting down at the table, "Awfully quiet in here this morning."

"Poor Mrs. Patmore worked straight through," he said, reaching for the pot of jam, "The younger maids have already gone up. They're eager to be there when the young ladies come down for their presents."

"Her Ladyship hasn't rung for me?" Elsie said warily, almost asking, afraid perhaps she'd missed some Downton Christmas custom. Carson crunched his toast with a reassuring shake of his head.

"It'll be a while yet for us," he said, sinking his teeth into the thick slice of bread. When he'd finished chewing, he reached for his tea, "The girls are having their stockings, then they will all have their breakfast. In the mean time, why don't you have yours?"

He nudged a teacup and saucer toward her and she nodded graciously. Pouring herself a cup, she eyed the kitchen counters.

"Do you suppose there are any biscuits around?" she said, blowing gently on her tea, the steam wafting up and warming her lips.

"In the mood for something more festive than toast, Miss Hughes?"

"I wouldn't mind a biscuit. Wouldn't _you_ like to start today off on a sweet note?"

Carson held his teacup against his lips, which curled into a smile as he gazed at her from across the table, "I believe I already am, Miss Hughes."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For those of you who keep mentioning mistletoe . . . don't worry, I heard you! ;) Also, Rosamund appears next chapters and you'll probably all murder me when you find out my (apparent) headcanon for her / Marmaduke. **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter is kind of oddly Rosamund focused - and SUPER LONG. There's Chelsie, yo. As promised.**

* * *

><p>"Hello, my darlings!" Rosamund said, removing her gloves as she strode through the front door. She was dressed warmly, but glamorously — her coat, mink-lined around the neck, was a deep forest green and it set off her shock of red hair. Hearing her voice, the girls leapt up from where they had gathered impatiently beneath the Christmas tree and ran to the front door to greet her. She knelt down, her skirts bunching, and held her arms open to them. As usual, Edith landed in her embrace first — and held on tightly.<p>

Robert and Cora rose lazily from their cozy post by the fire and rounded the corner to greet her — they were visibly surprised to see Rosamund alone.

"Whatever have you done with Marmaduke?" Robert said, stepping toward her to kiss her cheek in welcome. Rosamund laughed, waving her other still gloved hand at him dismissively.

"Oh, silly man! He's coming up in the motor. He sent me on the train for comfort, but we simply had too many gifts to bring!" She clapped her hands together excitedly an the girls nestled into her skirts.

"He's bringing the motor up in this weather?" Cora said, kissing Rosamund's cheek. "That seems very brave."

Rosamund gave Cora a look, "Brave, I think not. He's incorrigible."

"Auntie, come see what I got in my stocking!" Edith said, reaching up for Rosamund's embrace. She smiled, bending down to pick her up, propping her against her hip with the ease of a woman who was natural around children. She pinched Edith's cheeks lovingly and held her hand out to Mary, who smiled, leading her into the parlor.

"When do you suppose he'll arrive? Mama will be here for diner at 1 o'clock sharp and you know she won't be pleased to wait on him." Robert said, following them down the hallway.

"He left early this morning— got quite a head start on me. I'm actually a bit surprised he isn't here already." The girls lead her to where their gifts were stacked beneath the tree, imploring her to sit. Without hesitation, she joined them, plopping down on the floor.

"Oh, Rosamund, do have a seat by the fire. You don't want to muss your lovely gown!" Cora said, gingerly lowering herself onto the settee.

"I won't muss it," Rosamund said, "Besides, how am I suppose to see their trinkets from all the way over there?"

Robert shook his head — Rosamund had no concern for propriety, not in the least when it would prevent her from playing with her nieces. He joined Cora on the settee and reached for his teacup. He saw Cora watching his sister closely from the corner of his eye, and he knew she was going to ask — he thought about stopping her but figured he'd better let her now, before Mama arrived.

"Rosamund when are you and Marmaduke going to have a family of your own? You're so natural with the girls."

Robert thought he saw Rosamund reveal a tiny smile before she straightened her back and gave Cora a shrug.

"Aren't _we_ a Miss Nosy Parker."

"Cora, you know how you despise it when Mama inquires about our plans, now surely you'll spare poor Rosamund?" Robert said, giving his sister a teasing glance.

"Don't poor Rosamund me, Robert!" She said, a small laugh escaping her. She hoisted Edith onto her lap and hugged her close, "For all you know the answer might be coming sooner than you think."

She held Robert's gaze, and Cora's eyes brightened, "Rosamund do you mean to say you and Marmaduke may have an announcement for us this Christmas?"

Making a show of miming locking her lips and tossing the imaginary key over her shoulder, Rosamund grinned.

Nanny came in, just then, Sybil waking from her nap in her arms.

"Here we are, m'lady." she smiled, passing her off to Cora who had opened her arms expectantly. Rosamund practically floated up from her spot on the floor and scutted over to the settee.

"This would be your newest niece." Cora cooed, rocking Sybil gently.

"Robert, the description in your letter does not do her justice-you merely said she was pretty—but this baby is perfect!"

"Would you like to hold her?"

"Oh, Cora love, I might burst if I don't!"

Passing the baby to her, Cora watched as Rosamund's face dissolved in wonder.

"My goodness." She breathed.

"Pardon me, m'lord?"

Everyone looked up to see the butler, Anderson, standing in the doorway. He was preparing to retire and his normally worn face looked particularly stark and lacking in holiday cheer.

"Yes, Anderson, what is it?"

The old man swallowed, lowering his gaze, "There's been a telephone call for Lady Rosamund. Concerning Mr. Painswick."

Rosamund perked up, Sybil cooing in her arms, "Has he gotten himself stuck, then? I suppose we'll have to get a carriage to pull him out."

"Not stuck, Lady Rosamund."

There was a heavy silence. Rosamund stiffened, slowly handing Sybil back to Cora so that she could stand and go to him.

"Anderson?" Robert said, rising to follow his sister.

"M'lord—" he hesitated, "I'm afraid there's been an accident."

"An. . .accident?" Rosamund sputtered, "Well, is he alright?"

Anderson sighed, "The motor has been recovered but I'm afraid Marmaduke was not in it. It was in a gulley, overturned — the policemen who phoned thought it likely he had gone off for help or, perhaps, been picked up by someone passing by."

Rosamund exhaled, "Well then, he's probably fine. Right?" she turned to Robert, "He's fine, isn't he Robert?"

"The motor was found about halfway between London and Downton — the policeman couldn't determine how long it had been there. He could be on foot."

"On foot? He'd have frozen to death by now." Rosamund huffed, wringing her hands. She looked at Robert, "We've got to go look for him."

"We'll send a carriage out — I'll as Carson to go. Perhaps he's been picked up by someone in the village."

Rosamund nodded. Robert took her hand and pat it reassuringly, "I'm sure he's fine, Rosamund. We'll go rescue him." He lifted Rosamund's gaze, "And of course we'll surely tease him about this for years to come."

Turning back to Anderson, Rosamund blushed, "Perhaps it's horrid of me to ask, but did the policemen recover any of the children's gifts from the motor? I hope it wasn't looted."

"They didn't say, m'lady. I can inquire."

"Thank you, Anderson." Robert said. Dismissing him, he led Rosamund back over to join Cora. The girls had grown quiet, their faces expectant.

"Girls, it'll be alright. Don't worry."

"Is Marmaduke okay?" Mary asked, hugging her stocking closer to her.

Rosamund sniffled, quickly wiping a tear from her eye. "I'm certain he is, my dear. Only running late." She looked up at Robert. "Sadly, I don't think Mama will be terribly offput if he does not arrive in time dinner."

* * *

><p>Cora was secretly grateful that the holiday was unusually quiet this year. Of course she worried for Marmaduke's safe return, for Rosamund, but she was still so sore and exhausted from Sybil's birth that the thought of entertaining for a long day and night had plagued her for weeks. After dinner, and the children's gifts, everyone sat together in the parlor, the girls playing on the floor, Edith practically asleep upright, and Robert pouring himself another glass of brandy. Cora shot him a warning glance but, of course, it was Christmas.<p>

"Rosamund, my dear, Marmaduke is surely a far more rugged man than you give him credit for. He certainly wasn't brought up grasping a silver spoon. If there's anyone fit to face the elements it's a man like him." The Dowager Countess teased, lifting her sherry glass to her lips. Rosamund stiffened, her eyes red and moist from holding back tears all day. It was growing late — and had been dark for hours now. They had still not heard of Marmaduke's whereabouts and she had grown increasingbly uneasy as the day had worn on. Cora worried for her, especially after she rounded the corner to the sitting room earlier and found Rosamund standing by the window, alone, one hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

"Mama, I hardly find your castigation of my husband reassuring." Rosamund said, her voice trembling.

"Castigation? Rosamund don't be overdramatic. I thought myself rather generous."

"You would think it." Rosamund sneered, getting up from the settee. She went over to Robert and kissed his cheek. "Good night, dear brother." She turned to look at the girls, whose heads snapped up as she glided across the floor toward them, her arms outstretched. "Goodnight my little angels, Happy Christmas."

Edith clung to her, nestling her face in the sweetness of her aunt's neck. "Love you, aunt Rosamund."

Mary reached out and somewhat awkwardly placed a hand on Rosamund's shoulder, "I'm sure Mr. Painswick will arrive tomorrow." she said. Rosamund smiled, appreciating her eldest niece's attempt at empathy.

She took Mary's hand and kissed her small fingers, "Thank you, pet."

Setting Edith down, she brushed off her skirts and leaned down to kiss Cora on the cheek. She purposefully ignored Violet.

"I'm going up."

"Shall I have Hughes take care of you tonight?" Cora said.

"Not tonight, I don't think. But perhaps ask if she would bring up a tea tray for me in the morning. I don't think I'll be joining you for breakfast."

She nodded once more to Robert and turned, moving soundlessly out of the parlor.

Violet huffed once her daughter had retreated, lifting her sherry glass. "Her podsnappery around that young man will be her undoing."

* * *

><p>Exhaustion abound, both above stairs and below, the house was quiet at last — the little ones having tuckered themselves out playing with new toys, everyone else weighted down with drink and worry over Marmaduke.<p>

Mrs. Patmore sat, half-asleep, at the kitchen table as Elsie placed a mug of cocoa in front of her.

"Come now, lass, you haven't taken a breath all day. At least have something to drink — warm the cockles of your heart!"

Beryl chuckled, rubbing her eyes. Lifting the mug to her mouth, she inhaled deeply, "Oh, what a nice scent — you've got a secret cocoa recipe you aren't shared with me?"

"Aye, me mum taught me. Can't tell you unless you swear to take it to the grave."

Sipping the cocoa, Beryl threw her head back sighing, "You're a woman of mystery if there ever was one, Miss Hughes."

"I thought I heard voices in here." Boomed a familiar voice from the doorway. Elsie turned around and saw Mr. Carson, his face hanging with fatigue, too.

"Have a cuppa this magic!" Beryl said, pointing to her mug, "Her cocoa's bang-up!"

Carson furrowed his brow, "Competition for you, Mrs. Patmore?"

Beryl scoffed, "Mr. Carson, beg your pardon but did you happen to see the feast you slung upstairs today?" She beamed with pride, eyeing Elsie, "You have a knack for melting chocolate, but a feast like that'd send you to your maker."

Their eyes heavy with sleep, the three chuckled at the reprieve. None of them had spent the holiday with family of their own, but at the end of a day, the festivities having gone off without a hitch, even if they had been tinged with somber concerns, and their shared pride bonded them as colleagues and, perhaps, friends. Clinking their mugs together, they celebrated their first Christmas together at Downton — as a team.

* * *

><p>As Elsie teetered down the servant's hallway to her room — exhausted and already dreaming of the soft linens of her bed—she paused by the window to take one last look at the snow falling outside. Oh, how it reminded her of those nights running through the trees back home with Glenna. She put her hand against the cold glass, damp with precipitation, and and closed her eyes. When they'd reached the threshold, it hardly mattered who had gotten there first, who was to be the year's harbinger of goodness and light, because her ma would have warm cocoa, with her secret spice, for each of them. They'd huddle up by the fire in the afghans her mother had made, her father would lift his fiddle under his chin and play the long, lilting notes of <em>Auld Lang Syne<em>, which they would all sing.

In the hall, her palm grown cold, she hummed softly to herself. She was so lost in the memory that she didn't hear Carson approach her. But she heard, a moment later, a deep, rolling hum joining in. Her eyes flickered open and her hand snapped back from the glass.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said quietly. He cleared his throat and then sung softly,

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_  
><em>For auld lang syne.<em>  
><em>We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,<em>  
><em>For auld lang syne<em>

Elsie exhaled, looking up at him. She wiped her damp hand on her skirt.

"That's not the way _we_ sing it," she smiled, "You know it's a Scot's tune."

He nodded, "A poem, I think?"

She took a step toward him, speaking softly the rhythm of the words she knew well:

_"The flames of Love extinguished,_  
><em>and fully past and gone:<em>  
><em>Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,<em>  
><em>that loving Breast of thine;<em>  
><em>That thou canst never once reflect<em>  
><em>On Old long syne."<em>

They were standing so close to one another that she could have sworn she heard his heart threatening to beat out of her chest. He held her gaze steady, smiling at the words she'd said. As she inhaled, she looked up — perhaps to ask for strength—and puffed air out in a hard laugh when she saw what was above their head, placed there no doubt by lovelorn maids, in the rafters.

Carson followed her gaze upward, a small chuckle escaping his pursed lips. He carefully reached up, spotting a bright red berry in the bow, and plucked it ceremoniously from the branch.

"Lucky," he whispered, "That appears to be the last berry upon the branch."

Elsie narrowed her gaze, "You'll have to help me to understand, Mr. Carson. I'm not familiar with the tradition."

Carson rolled the bright berry between his finger and thumb, "Well, Miss Hughes, if you stand beneath the bow with another, and there are berries upon it, then you are granted a kiss. But once all the berries are gone, no more kissing is permitted."

He looked up at her, smiling devilishly. He held the berry out to her and she slowly opened her palm to receive it. Clasping her hand shut around it, she worried her lower lip.

"What am I to do with it, then?" she whispered, taking another impossible step in toward him.

Carson reached up and brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her face, leaning closer. She let her eyes fluttered closed and allowed him to kiss her softly on the lips. Unable to help it, she felt herself relax and smile against his lips. She could feel his lips pull apart in his own wide grin, and she reached up to wrap her hands delightfully round his neck. He brought one hand down, wrapping it around her lower back and pulling her in closer, the other reaching up to caress her face.

He turned her slightly, pushing her up against the wall. In the darkness and silence of the hallway, all that could be heard was the faint howl of the winter wind and a soft gasp from Elsie as he tightened his grasp around her waist.

Her head was spinning — _oh, I mustn't let this go on_! She thought, but still, her hands reached for him in the dark. It was as thouh her body was up to mischief all on its own, and her mind could only watch.

She felt his hand tentatively slide up her side, along her rib cage, until he hovered just above her breast. He broke the kiss long enough to look at her, his eyes asking. How desperately she wanted to say yes.

But she couldn't.

Pushing past him suddenly, terror pounding in the pit of her stomach, she hurried down the long hall away from him. When she reached the door to her bedroom, she paused, leaning her head against the dark wood. A few hesitant steps came down the hallway after her and as she reached for the doorknob, she heard him call to her. At the sound of her name being carried by his voice, she softened. Turning to him slowly, her eyes welling up with tears, she put her arm out — she couldn't be so close to him again. Not now.

"I'm sorry Mr. Carson. I can't."

He swallowed hard, his brow perspiring, bottom lip trembling.

"I really don't know what's gotten into me," he said his voice high pitched and nearly desperate, "I swear to you I have never behaved like this." He shook his head, "I have been in love, deeply in love, with a girl for many years and —" he looked to Elsie for understanding but she was simply too frightened to offer him anything, "—I think the excitement of the day, the last few weeks really, it's . . ." he reached for words, "Miss Hughes, it's damaged me in some way - this, _desire._"

Elsie eased, "No need to steek your heart, Mr. Carson."

"It pains me - that it cannot be, you know. Perhaps if we'd met under different circumstances."

Elsie looked down, scuffing her foot nervous across the floor. "Another time. Another place, perhaps."

He stood up a bit straighter and gave her a practiced, reverent nod of the head. "Happy Christmas, Miss Hughes."

Offering her a small smile, he moved past her down the hallway toward his room.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson." She said in a hush — so quietly she supposed he hadn't heard her at all. As she turned to open the door to her room, she felt a small pinch against her palm. Opening it, and bringing it up closer to her face, she saw the holly berry —crushed by her grip.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Elsie rapped lightly on Lady Rosamund's door, tea tray in hand. There had been no news of Mr. Painswick overnight, and she was not surprised that when she entered the guest bedroom, Rosamund was already up, seated by the window, looking as though she had not even undressed for bed.<p>

"Any news from the village?" Rosamund said, turning toward Elsie.

Shaking her head solemnly, she set the tea tray down on the small table beside Rosamund. "I'm afraid not, m'lady."

Rosamund sighed, reaching for the tea pot. "Thank you, oh" She looked up at Elsie, "Hughes, is it? I'm terribly sorry."

"Yes, m'lady. Hughes. Not to worry, you've bigger things on your mind this morning."

Her face contorting in a sudden grimace, Rosamund pushed away the toast that Elsie had brought up along with the tea. After a moment, the feeling seemed to have passed, and with a long, slow exhalation, Rosamund lifted her gaze and poured her tea. "You're from Scotland, yes?"

Elsie nodded, "Argyll."

"Cora is delighted with you." Rosamund said, "She said she only hoped I'd find someone as lovely as you for a lady's maid."

"Kind of her to say, m'lady." She glanced around the room, looking for Rosamund's dressing gown, "Would you like me to draw a bath for you?"

Rosamund shook her head, blowing on her tea, "Oh, no that's quite alright. I can do it myself later on. I thank you for the tea. Please let me know if there is any news from the village." She slipped her tea — the tiniest of sips, before setting it down in her lap. She suddenly looked more ill than tired, and Elsie thought perhaps she recognized the look.

"Might I stay and help you dress?" She took a cautious step toward Rosamund and saw, then, that as she held the teacup in her lap, she ever-so slightly, almost absentmindedly, ran her thumb along her lower stomach, just beneath her navel.

"Pardon me Miss Hughes but you'll find I am not as interested in the finery of my brother's life. Though it pains Mama deeply, you'll notice that I do not travel with a lady's maid — because I do not _have one_."

Elsie blinked in response.

"And I do not have one because I do not _want_ one. Please don't take any offense."

"None taken, m'lady." Elsie said, trying to hide her smirk, "If you need anything don't hesitate to ring. I'll let you know at once if there's any word."

Rosamund looked away from her, out the window. "Very good, then."

As she headed back downstairs, she saw Charity in the parlor, picking up spatterings of Christmas paper and ribbon from the floor. She hovered in the doorway a moment, watching the girl run a long strand of silky gold ribbon through her hand. Not wanting to startle her, she gently rapped on the door frame.

"Charity, might I ask a favor of you?"

Looking up from the mess of paper and decoration, Charity smiled to see Elsie walking toward her.

"Anything at all, Miss Hughes."

"I'd like you to save a piece of Mrs. Patmore's Christmas cake for Lady Rosamund. I know she's to serve it at luncheon today, and I don't suspect Lady Rosamund will be joining everyone." She gave Charity a small wink, "I do think, though, the poor lass could use a piece of that cake."

Charity smiled, "I shall, then." She looked down at the ribbon, stuffing it into her apron pocket "I hope her husband is found safely."

"Aye, me too, jo." Elsie sighed, "Out of the fryin' pan and into the fire with that one."

"How so?"

Elsie shrugged, "Call it a woman's knowin' but. . . I think she's expecting."

* * *

><p>Robert decided to let Cora sleep — she'd been up several times in the night with Sybil, who, perhaps as a result of the excitement, didn't seem the least bit interested in sleeping. He slowly sat up in bed, looking down at Cora's mop of dark hair, which was tucked under her chin in a messy braid. He loved their quiet mornings together like this — he had the freedom to stare at her as long as he pleased, carving out her beautiful features and running his hand gently along the curve of her hip. She always slept with her mouth just slightly parted — her lower lip looking perpetually kissable. He wanted to, but he knew she needed to sleep. He thought about getting out of bed, but another wave of sleepiness washed over him and he lowered himself back beneath the blankets. It was Boxing Day, he needn't ring for Carson so early — he hoped that everyone below stairs had enjoyed the treats he'd ordered for them. Certainly, he thought, Mrs. Patmore, the new cook, would have kept them well fed with her delicious offerings.<p>

He only knew that Cora hadn't slept well because he hadn't either — he was worried about Marmaduke. Or, he supposed, mostly worried about Rosamund. He hadn't approved of Marmaduke Painswick anymore than their parents had — he often thought that his father's death had been hastened by the marriage of both his children to people he did not respect. Of course, Cora was welcomed far more than Marmduke — afterall, it was her money that saved Downton. Mr. Painswick brought no money and no title — though, as far as Robert could tell, he did bring Rosamund joy, so he supposed that counted for something.

His dear sister. They were often cross with one another, as siblings could be, but he did love her. He may not have approved of Marmaduke but he would never wish any ill-fate to befall him. He knew, from Rosamund's heavy heart yesterday, that whether or not he thought Marmaduke worthy of any claim to the Crawley's, he had certainly laid claim to Rosamund's heart.

"Robert?"

A tiny voice from the pillows — he opened his eyes and turned his head slightly. Cora's cobalt eyes greeted him through a haze of sleep.

"Goodmorning, darling." He said, kissing her. "Did I wake you?"

Cora yawned, "No, no. I was restless all night."

"I know."

"Did I keep you awake?"

"No, not at all I just —" he sighed, reaching along the covers to let his hand come to rest in the dip of her hip. Her figure, always very slender, had pleasantly rounded out from her last pregnancy, and though his hand was normally met with the rather angular curve of her hip, he was delighted to find a softness there he hadn't felt before.

"You're worried about Marmaduke."

"I suppose — but mostly worried about Ros," he snuggled in closer to her.

She pulled herself in closer to him, tucking her fists beneath her chin and resting her head against his chest. "She doesn't look well."

"She's worried herself sick,"

"No, I mean. . .even before they found the motor I thought. . .doesn't she look as though she could use a bit of color? She looked terribly drawn when she arrived."

"I'm sure it's just the weather, darling. Perhaps their flat in London is draughty."

"Robert if I didn't know better I'd say that she was expecting."

"Darling, you dreamed a dream for my darling sister but —"

She pulled away from his chest and looked up at him, "I am nearly _certain_ that she is with child, Robert. Under normal circumstances this would be cause for jubilee, but what if something has happened to Marmaduke?"

Robert considered this. If Cora was right. . .

From across the room, Sybil mewled. Their baby beckoned for Cora, and she gave him a halfway apologetic look, then climbed wearily out of bed. Wrapping Sybil in a soft blanket, she returned and sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning her blouse.

"You must ask her."

"Why me?" Robert said, sitting up, "Far better it come from you."

Cora lifted Sybil to her breast, "Well, perhaps we could both approach her. If she is, and . . .oh, I mustn't think it."

"Think what?"

She didn't look at him, instead, focused her attention on Sybil's tiny hands, "If she is and Marmaduke. . .does not return. . .she will need us. She'll need Downton."

Robert watched as Cora stroked Sybil's fingers. He was plagued momentarily by the thought of his sister — a tiny baby in her arms, and alone to care for it.

"Let us see what the morning brings for news," he said, reaching over to stroke Sybil's cheek as she suckled, "I haven't lost hope."

* * *

><p>Downstairs, the servants pushed in around the table to gobble up all the treats from the night before, as well as the breakfast Mrs. Patmore had prepared for their boxing day. His Lordship always took very good care to make sure everyone had something for the holiday in thanks, and many of the younger maids and footmen had packages from home. As Mrs. Patmore bustled about, making sure that everyone had something to eat, Elsie watched from a chair in the corner, tea on her lap. She hadn't yet seen Mr. Carson today and wondered if, perhaps, Boxing Day was the one morning in a year he permitted himself to sleep late.<p>

No sooner had she thought it than he appeared in the doorway. He'd come in from outside and his hat was dusted with snow. With his flushed cheeks and bright red nose, she felt that she had to strain to keep herself firm in her chair — rather than rushing over to warm him up.

Elsie wasn't sure where he was returning from, but when the others saw him, their excitement quieted. Anderson, the old butler, staggered over to where Carson stood in the doorway. For the first time, Elsie noticed that Carson's face wasn't frozen from the cold — but the lines etched deeply from concern — she might even venture horror.

"Mr. Carson?" Anderson said, resting on his cane. He never used it but downstairs, and only when the cold air bothered his aching joints.

Carson removed his hat, seemingly lost to words. He bit his lip and gently shook the snow from his coat. When he did look up, he found Elsie's gaze.

"It seems that the police from Yorkshire have found Mr. Painswick," he said, not taking his eyes from Elsie. The room was choked with silence, and the sound of Elsie setting her teacup down, the clinking, was so loud that she saw a few of the maids jump. She stood and slowly moved into the crowd that stood motionless around the table. Seeing her come through the throng, Carson continued. "It appears that he attempted to make some progress on foot after his motor overturned. He was injured. His body was found just off the roadway."

There was a chorus of sharp gasps throughout the room. Elsie felt her hand come to her mouth.

"Does his Lordship know?" a voice said.

Carson shook his head, "I don't believe so. I went into Yorkshire myself this morning to inquire — and while I was there, the call came in to the inspector." He looked helplessly at Anderson, "They will be calling on Lady Rosamund shortly. I hesitate to suggest that I know for sure whether I ought to give his Lordship the news, or allow the inspector to do it."

"Mr. Carson," Elsie said. She was as surprised by her voice as everyone else. From the back of the crowd, she stepped through, "I know he'd rather hear it from your mouth than a stranger."

Murmurs of agreement rumbled through the kitchen. After a few moments, he looked at Anderson, who nodded solemnly.

A small tinkling was heard from across the room. Heads turned to the bell wall and then, Elsie felt the heat of twenty or so gazes upon her.

Her Ladyship had rung.

"I've to go up, Mr. Carson" she said, "Why don't you come up with me."

* * *

><p>Surprised at the sight of his valet and Cora's lady's maid hovering in the doorway, Robert let out a small chuckle, "Hardly expected to see both of you up here! Tell me, Carson, did the downstairs staff receive their trinkets."<p>

Next to her, Elsie felt Mr. Carson tense — he was trying to hide the fact that his hands had been shaking since they ascended the stairs.

"M'lord, I've news from the village." he spat out, startling everyone with his booming voice. Sybil fussed in Cora's arms.

"Oh," Robert said, rising from bed, "Have they located Marmaduke?"

Elsie bit her lip and turned her head to look up at Mr. Carson. For a man normally so statuesque and strong, something about the frown he wore made her want to wrap him up into her arms like a child.

"I'm afraid . . ." he cleared his throat, "M'lord, the inspector will be this morning to . . ."

Robert studied his valet carefully — it was so unlike him to be wishy-washy and hard-pressed to find his words. He felt his stomach drop at the realization Carson's hesitance could only mean one thing.

"Dear God," he murmured, almost under his breath. From the bed came a small cry, and Elsie wasn't certain if it was from Syibl or Cora.

"We thought the news might come softer from Mr. Carson than the inspector, m'lord." Elsie said, wanting desperately to put her hand on Mr. Carson's arm. At the sound of her voice, he seemed to soften a bit.

"Very much so, Hughes." Cora said, still somewhat aghast, "Robert, you must go tell Rosamund at once. You can't let her hear it from the inspector."

"Hear what from the inspector?"

They all looked toward the door, Carson and Elsie turning in unison to face the voice that had come from the hallway. Rosamund, still in her dressing gown and with damp hair, stood shaking in the corridor.

Elsie knew that tonality of that scream: it was agony, fear and misery stretched out in a long, sharp chord. She was the first one out the door as Rosamund collapse in the hallway, her dressing gown pooling around her. She knelt down and drew her close — propriety be damned, they were all human weren't they?—and felt, for the first time, just how slight a woman Rosamund was. Her birdlike arms shook as they pressed into Elsie's chest, which served only slightly to muffle her anguished sobs.

Elsie had held her sister like this the night Ma died. Glenna had cried this way, her voice curling into long, tortured moans. Da had cried too, but it had been a soundless cry — if she hadn't known the reason why, he almost could have been laughing. Elsie had used all her might to pull Glenna off her Ma's body, which had grown so weak and small from her sickness. As their Da ran out to the barn, his agony threatening to come out from his fists, Elsie had lifted her hands under the candlelight and saw Ma's blood, bright red like crushed berries.

"Hughes, help me lift her. We'll take her back to her room." Robert said, kneeling down beside her. As they hoisted her up, Elsie felt wet warmth on her palms — when she glanced down, her gasp was so loud it was audible even over Rosamund's wails.

"Carson!" Robert barked when he saw it himself, "Ring for Dr. Clarkson at once."

* * *

><p>"Lady Rosamund has had a miscarriage," Dr. Clarkson said, closing the door to the guest bedroom softly behind him. In the hallway, Robert had been pacing for more than an hour, fearful that the shock of her husband's death may have been more than his ster could bear.<p>

"A . . .?" he stuttered, "She was . ..?"

Dr. Clarkson nodded, "It was very early. She may not have even known it yet."

"She knew." Cora said. Both men turned and saw her standing in the doorway to her bedroom. She held Sybil close to her.

Dr. Clarkson cleared his throat, "I've given her something to help her sleep. Leave her for the afternoon, she's had quite a shock. I've left the remaining sedative on the bedside table. You may want to administer it for the next few days. She should not leave bed until I've had a chance to examine her again. Certainly she is not to return to London straight away—"

"Of course not, we'll care for her here"

"Very good then." Dr. Clarkson nodded, "I'm terribly sorry for your loss, M'lord."

Robert nodded and waited until Dr. Clarkson had begun to descend the stairs before he turned to Cora, who was still standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

"Come away, Robert." she whispered. "Let her rest."

Torn between the two women who needed him most, he opted instead to give Cora a quick kiss and head downstairs to the library where he would have a drink and try to figure out what they would tell Mama.

* * *

><p><em>She felt his warm hands on her neck as he pulled her close to him. Twirling her around and pressing her into a corner of the long hall, she gasped against his mouth.<em>

_"Stop it," she whispered, "We'll be caught."_

_"No one's paying any attention, Ros. They're all staring into their brandy, trying desperately not to ruffle your dear Mama." His hands slid down her front, and she tried to stifle a yelp. Letting them rest at her hips, lips pressed against the curve of her neck, he felt her shudder— and he wasn't certain if it was from laughter or pleasure._

_"Ruffle? Darling—mercy upon her if she knew what your hands were doing."_

Caught in sleep, Rosamund writhed. She wanted her eyes to open, but they were too heavy. Her voice rested in the back of her throat, nearly choking her, and she felt a hand upon her brow — not Marmaduke's.

"You're alright, lass." A voice rasped, the burr vaguely familiar. She fought to open her eyes, and cried out in frustration. The hand at her brow moved up to sooth her hair. She heard voices — far away, somehow.

"Is she awake?"

"Not quite, m'lord."

With all her might, she tried to form her mouth into words, exhaled sharply hoping that she could produce sound from her lips. She tried to lift her arms but they were ungainly.

"Rosamund, don't fight it. The doctor has given you something to help you sleep."

Robert's voice above her, his heavy hand on hers. She heard a pathetic squall in response and realized it had come from her. Defeated, she let the struggle overtake her and retreated to her memory.

* * *

><p><em>"You look stunning tonight," he said, running a finger along her cheekbone, tracing the line of her blush, "Dazzling."<em>

_"Shall we tell them?" she said, her eyes eager._

_"That you're dazzling? Darling, I think they can see that."_

_"Silly man," she chided, flapping her hand against his chest. She fussed with his cravat, "About our engagement."_

* * *

><p>Elsie made no attempt to hide her exhaustion. She sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, an untouched cup of tea beside her. She had spent most of the day tending to Lady Rosamund, who slept fitfully, and had barely managed to help Her Ladyship ready for bed before she felt tears of fatigue stinging her eyes. Though she wanted nothing more than to sleep, she found that she could not, so though it was late and the entire house was silent she sat quietly at the kitchen table in the dark, help captive by memory.<p>

The blood, Lady Rosamund's blood on her hands, upon her skirts. When Elsie was just a girl she had watched her mother die, bleeding to death in her own bed. She had been very sick; the village doctor had shrugged and said it was something incurable. It made her bleed, like her monthlies, except worse—she grew so weak, so filled with pain, that she could no longer rise from bed. As Elsie sat beside her, bringing a cup of warm broth to her lips, Ma had tried to explain to her what was happening— why she would die.

_"Inside of me, where you and Glenna grew, is poisoned." She had said. Elsie hadn't understood, had barely comprehended what she meant by "where you grew" — she didn't know about bairns, where they come from, or why. She'd furrowed her brow in response._

_"Elsie, my jo. . ." she had said, a small smile upon her dry mouth, "Someday you'll love a man, and you'll want to have his bairns. It'll be a beautiful kind of love. You'll know the feel of his hands and his heavy footfalls coming home. He'll tell you how fine you are to him, and he'll be fine to you."_

_"How will I know he's fine to me?" Elsie said, nestling up to her Ma in bed, careful not to lay her head too heavily upon her mother's weary breast._

_"Jo," she said, soothing Elsie's hair, "Wait for a man who respects you like a sea captain respects the sea. A man who looks at you with awe and reverence but knows you are a force of nature*."_

The gentle light of a candle pulled her out of the memory. She turned toward it, squinting into the darkness.

"Sorry to startle you," a deep voice whispered. She had to smile — even his whispers were loud and booming.

"Mr. Carson," she said, "I've left the kettle on, if you've come for tea."

He nodded, "I'll take some tea I think" he turned to her from the stove, "and perhaps a bit of company, unless of course you would prefer to be alone?"

"I wouldn't prefer it," Elsie said, "I can't seem to fall asleep."

Joining her at the table, Carson sighed knowingly, "I can't seem to stay asleep." He studied Elsie's face in the darkness, "I can only suppose you've many horrors on your mind this night."

Elsie let her chin rest on her hand, "Some long forgotten ones."

"Oh?"

"Forgive me, Mr. Carson." She yawned, "Past life musings and nothing more."

"What else is there at this late hour?" Carson sipped his tea. She stirred sugar into hers, somewhat absent-mindedly, as it had long gone cold. She hummed softly to herself, almost hoping she'd lull herself to sleep. Under her breath, she sang the words quietly to herself.

_A man may fight and not be slain_  
><em>A man may court a pretty girl<em>  
><em>And perhaps be welcomed back again<em>  
><em>But since it has so ought to be<em>  
><em>By a time to rise and a time to fall<em>  
><em>Come fill to me the parting glass<em>  
><em>Good night and joy be with you all<em>

"I know that tune," Carson said, raising a bushy eyebrow in recognition.

"You do?" Elsie said, cocking her head to one side, "The Parting Glass?"

"Oh yes," Carson said,_ "Of all the comrades that e'er I had_  
><em>They are sorry for my going away<em>  
><em>And all the sweethearts that e'er I had<em>  
><em>They would wish me one more day to stay<em>  
><em>But since it falls unto my lot<em>  
><em>That I should rise and you should not<em>  
><em>I'll gently rise and I'll softly call<em>  
><em>Good night and joy be with you all"<em>

He chuckled nostalgically, "We always closed our shows with it."

"Your _shows_?" Elsie asked, thinking she'd misheard him. Her eyes were heavy now, and she thought perhaps sleep might finally come.

"Oh, well, I. . ." he grumbled, "Just something from my youth."

Elsie yawned, her fingers touching her lips. "A story for another time, then." She took her teacup and rose from the table, "I'm going to try to catch a few winks, Mr. Carson. Should I pour the tea for you before I go?"

"No, no. You've taken care of everyone well today, Miss Hughes. To bed with you."

She smiled at him sleepily from the doorway, "Goodnight then, Mr Carson."

He watched as she disappeared down the hallway, leaving in her wake the musky scent of her perfume. He held his breath, longing to hold on to it for one moment more.

* * *

><p>Cora hovered somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, sitting next to Rosamund's bed, her sister-in-law's hand in hers. She had always liked Rosamund; when they had first met, during Cora's first season in London, she was in awe of her mischevious beauty. Rosamund was hardly like the other girls who glided across the ballrooms — she wasn't less glamorous, in fact she was perhaps more so. Rosamund had a look about her — like she knew a secret you were desperate to know. Her fiery hair made her stand out in the dark blue of the night. Men watched her but few approached her — it was almost as though they were afraid of getting burned.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The first time she laid eyes on her, Rosamund was laughing. She held herself in a far more open and unrestrained manner than Cora had been taught — she could never imagine laughing as loud as that in mixed company. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd laughed that hard. She'd turned, then, to the young man she was dancing with and asked if he knew who she was.<em>

_"Oh, of course." He huffed, "That would be Lady Rosamund Crawley."_

_"Lady?"_

_"Yes, her brother is the next Earl of Grantham."_

_Cora's interest was piqued, then. She had been displaced all the way across the sea to find a husband — or, as she knew to be the truth—a title. When the dance was through, she excused herself and returned to the table where her mother was perched._

_"No dice?" Her mother said, lifting her glass to her lips._

_"Do you see that woman over there?" Cora asked, glancing in Rosamund's direction. Across the ballroom she was accepting a flute of champagne from one young man — while making eyes at another._

_"I'd have to be blind not too, Cora." Her mother sniggered._

_Cora shot her a look, "Her brother is to be the next Earl of Grantham."_

_Her mother paused mid-sip, "I'm listening."_

_Cora shook her head, "Well, I don't know I just meant — perhaps I should find out who he is?"_

_"I doubt that would be difficult," she gestured to a waiter who approached her somewhat cautiously._

_"More champagne?" He inquired, leaning down and sticking the tray in Mrs. Levinson's face._

_"No thank you—but tell me this—" She eyed the ballroom, "Where is the young man who is to the the next Earl of Grantham?"_

_The waiter looked up and studied the crowd for a moment and, having easily spotted the face, covertly pointed him out._

_"There — one, Robert Crawley."_

_Mrs. Levinson thanked him and, on a second thought, grabbed another flute of champagne from his tray before he stepped away. She eyed Cora over the rim of it, "Alright, honey—go get him."_

* * *

><p>Rosamund stirred. Cora reached up to stroke her brow.<p>

"Rosamund," she hushed, "It's alright. You're alright."

Sallow and almost lifeless, Rosamund's face seemed locked in a grimace. She struggled to open her eyes fully but, upon lifting her lashes, recognized that Cora sat on the edge of her bed.

"What's happened?" she asked, her voice cracking. Cora reached for the lass of water that waited on the night table and implored her to take a sip. She helped her to sit up and gently lifted the glass to her lips.

"Oh, Rosamund. . ." Cora said, "Do you mean to say you remember nothing?"

"I feel dreadful, Cora. Perfectly wretched." She blinked, opening her eyes fully, "Where's Marmaduke?"

The look on Cora's face must have given her away, because she saw the grief echoed in Rosamund's eyes.

"Dear Christ," Rosamund murmured, "I thought I'd dreamt it." She tried to adjust her position but winced, surprised by a deep pain in her stomach. Without thinking, her hand flew to her abdomen. She looked up at Cora helplessly; there was a flash of recognition and she realized that Cora must know, of course she did — women always did. Something was different she felt decidedly empty.

"You were carrying a child, Rosamund. Did you know?"

Rosamund sputtered, "Yes, of course —I—" Cora's tense hit her, "_Were_?"

Cora's eyes dampened and she brought a finger delicately to her face to catch a tear before it fell onto her cheek, "I think the shock was too much,

"No, no. _Dear God, no_!" Rosamund cried, "I've lost them both?"

Cora wasn't sure what to say —what she could say—so she just moved closer and offered her arms as a sanctuary, where her sister in-law sobbed loudly against her.

"I've lost them — I've lost everyone."

Cora hushed her, blinking her own tears away. "You haven't lost us."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hi guys! Phew- huge update for me, now you're all the way current as far as I've written. There just wasn't a great place to break it up - so, here's my Thanksgiving gift to you, hehehe! But since I now have to figure out where in the hell this story is going it might be a while's wait before you get another update!xx

*I can't take credit for this quote, it came from this post on tumblr ( post/61329318359/my-mom-told-me-to-find-a-man-who-respects-you) but it's flawless and I'm sure you'll see it again in other fics, or just LIFE.


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